


and i'd do anything to make you stay

by its_illuminating



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternative Universe - Dragon Age, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Demons, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jealousy, M/M, Mage GeorgeNotFound, Mage Tubbo, Magic, Panic Attacks, Templar Sapnap, basically dragon age universe with liberties taken, you don't actually need to know the games
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 45,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27023674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_illuminating/pseuds/its_illuminating
Summary: George had been 8 when he first summoned a flame to the palm of his hand. It lit up the darkness of the night with a warm glow, mirroring back in the brightness of his wide eyes. When the child had run to his parents' bedroom, excited to share this new discovery, the faces that had greeted him were horrified.This was the first time George had seen his mother cry.That night, his parents had set him down on the kitchen table, looked at him with wet eyes and trembling hands and explained that what he did was not to be looked at with awe, but with horror.⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯“The Circle is a prison. You have choices... between joining and suffering various deaths of body or spirit.”
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 149
Kudos: 606





	1. echoing where my ghosts all used to be

**Author's Note:**

> This writing uses the personas, in no shape or form do I ship George and Dream in real life. I respect them deeply and if anyone involved in this writing expresses discomfort, this work will be removed. 
> 
> Please keep the abuse warnings in mind. There's nothing graphic in this chapter, but it is refrenced and implied.
> 
> So this is a bit of a bigger project of mine - I'd appreciate hearing what you guys think, please enjoy!

Magic was a beautiful thing.

  
It allowed you to bend reality to your will, shape and change it into whatever you pleased. You could raise the dead, change your form into that of wild animals, summon for a fire to engulf your enemies. The only limits that you had were the ones you set for yourself. A mage was a god among men, whether they knew it or not. Magic wasn't something to be taught or learned - the ability to manipulate the world around you was something you could only be born with. It could be beautiful. It could fill your lungs with warmth and mend broken bones. It could help you create things no normal being should ever be capable of. 

  
Magic was a dangerous thing.

  
It burned those who touched it, it soiled their hearts and turned them into monsters. Magic could crush villages like flies, could manipulate a person's mind effortlessly. If a mage was not taught limits, magic could consume them entirely. As powerful as they were, mages were fragile. Too emotional, too connected to the source of magic - to the fade - and demons could use their bodies as their own. They were a danger, not only to society but to themselves as well. Mages were not to be trusted unless properly trained. 

  
Magic came in many shapes, good, evil, powerful, weak, everything that it could be depended solely on the mind the magic was bound to. As varied as it was, people rarely focused on the positives, unless it was contained, controlled. 

  
So that is what they did.

  
The church took matters into their own hands. Deemed magic to be evil and unstable - the only way for mages and others to be safe, is for mages to be contained. Taken from their homes, their families in order to learn the right way to serve their people. Circle of Magi were founded across the land, offering a home for mages to train and serve - whether they wanted to or not. 

  
Over them watched the Templars, the holy military ordered to protect mages from themselves. They held authority in the dark halls of the circles. The only people who could defend against a mage who had gone off the deep end. 

  
George had been 8 when he first summoned a flame to the palm of his hand. It lit up the darkness of the night with a warm glow, mirroring back in the brightness of his wide eyes. When the child had run to his parents' bedroom, excited to share this new discovery, the faces that had greeted him were horrified.

  
This was the first time George had seen his mother cry. George somehow knew it wouldn't be the last.

  
That night, his parents had set him down on the kitchen table, looked at him with wet eyes and trembling hands and explained that what he did was not to be looked at with awe, but with horror. "The templars, they'll take you away," his mother had explained with chocked words, "Just like they did with aunt Lilith. Do you remember her, honey?" His mother had continued, clutching his hands tightly in her own. George had only nodded mutely, not understanding the fear in their eyes with his young and tired mind. "You have to keep this a secret buddy." George had never heard his father's voice sound so gentle, "Don't trust anyone with this." That night, George had agreed - but he already knew that such a promise would always exclude one person. 

  
The next morning, George was racing through the streets. The lower part of the city was often seen as dangerous by the rich of the city. It wasn't pretty, filled with crime and hate, but to George's young eyes the alleyways were the perfect playground. It was his home and children were safe here. As much as this confused those looking in from the outside. It wasn't long until George found who he had been searching for. The blond boy grinning down at the brunette, his smile wide and eyes bright from his position upon alley wall, "Clay!" George called out, his excitement echoing through the otherwise empty alleyway, "George!" Came the laughing reply of the other boy. He jumped down, coming to a stand in front of his friend. Clay's face was covered with freckles, freckles that were often hidden behind dried dirt and soot. However, the smile that was always present on his lips distracted George from the dishevelled way his best friend always presented himself. 

  
"You're earlier than usual. What are you doing here?" Clay asked, his grin falling into something softer as he saw the bright glint in George's eyes. 

  
The grin on George's lips widened and he made a big show out of scanning their surroundings before leaning closer to his friend, "I have something to show you."

George leaned pack, pointing at Clay, "But! You can't tell anyone, you promise?" 

  
Clay frowned slightly but nodded non the less, curious to see just where George was going with this, "I promise." 

  
"Pinky promise?" George added, now holding out his pinky finger with half-hearted stern eyes. Clay smiled, wrapping his own pinky around George's, "Pinky promise."   
Once those words left Clay's mouth, George pulled his hand away but shuffled closer to his friend. Clay watched silently as the brunette raised his palm and a small flame flickered in his hand. Clay gasped loudly, his eyes wide. As George looked back up, he was relieved to see wonder and not horror in his friend's eyes. 

  
"George, this is..! How did you do that?" Clay breathed out, his gaze still fixated on the other's palm even when the flame flickered out to nothing.

  
"Magic, Clay!"

  
Finally, the boy looked up, both of their eyes wide with awe, "That's amazing, George!"

  
George had decided even before telling Clay that the blond would be the only one to know this secret. He knew he could trust the street boy with anything. 

  
With the passing years, George's magic grew. Even as he trained with Clay in dark alleyways, it was getting harder and harder to control the magic that was bubbling under his skin. George managed though, he and Clay worked together to keep his secret hidden from the templars that patrolled the streets. However, the older George grew, the more worried his parents became - for George was still a child and, he didn't notice the changes that happened around them. 

  
The patrols on the streets grew with every passing year, the templars gradually pushing the city guards from their posts and replacing them. It made catching mages easier, they said and, they weren't wrong. Being born with magic was a rare thing but, that made it all the easier to be discovered. 

  
George was not an exception.

  
George had been 12 when the Templars busted into their home and stole him from his bed. He was always going to remember the way his mother cried for him when the rough, armoured hands grabbed him and dragged him through the streets. That had been the last time he saw his parents, the last time he saw the familiar streets of his home district before the walls of the Circle engulfed him.

  
As soon as George had been brought into the Circle, he could tell he would never see it as anything other than a prison. The walls were wide, the ceilings high - decorated with gold and beautiful pictures. It was a display of wealth, of comfort, but the halls were cold - it was mocking the ones captured inside.

  
For if you fell into the clutches of the circle, freedom was a thing of the past. 

  
George had learned this quickly because the eyes of the templars were much, much colder than their armour. There was no comfort found in these halls, no comfort with the other mages either. Most of them had grown up in the Circle, the outside world only a vague memory, their families only blurred faces. To George's horror, they looked forward to working for the Church, looked forward to spending their lives in the shackles that had been forced onto them. He couldn't blame them, not really, this was what they had always known. George supposed it wasn't a bad life, he saw the older mages, their teachers, laugh with the templars that patrolled the halls. However, George couldn't help the feeling that it was forced, the eyes of the elder mages always holding the lightest amount of fear. They put him to school, giving him an education that was normally only reserved for the wealthy families in their city. He learned to read, learned to write and learned how to control his magic - how to make it into something more precise than a simple fireball or lighting clouds. 

  
George was a model student. He didn't have a choice, any amount of refusal or misbehaviour was quickly beaten out of them, to keep their magic safe, they said. The first time a templar had laid their hands on him, he had decided that this was not going to be permanent. He was going to get out of there. No matter what it took.   
However, such promises were easily done when you had the mind of a child - the times when you'd run around in the streets with your friends still fresh in your mind. As George grew older, as he got scar after scar from the people said to protect him, the hope and determination slowly faded, until it was nothing but a small candle, lighting the inside of his heart. Bitterness replaced the youthful joy he had once held. 

  
Memories were the only things that kept him strong during those years. The time he and his mother had gone down to the harbour, the fresh ocean air, brushing through his brown locks. When he had first met Clay, the boy's grin wide as if he hadn't just fallen through the roof of George's house. That one time Clay and he had stolen apples from the mean old woman next door. The last time George had seen Clay, parting ways as they both headed home for the night, an unspoken promise between them to see each other in the morning. 

  
The night he had been taken. A promise George was never going to fulfil. 

  
He thought about Clay a lot, even if by now, years later, the boy was only a distant memory. Clay was his anchor, the one thing that kept the hope in George's heart from fading completely. Clay had always been so joyful, so warm despite not having a family to call his own. George had always admired that about him, he still did - it gave George enough motivation to get up in the morning. It was a bit pathetic, that the only thing that gave him joy was the memory of a person who could have forgotten George entirely by now. 

  
George hoped Clay remembered...he really did. 

  
The two boys had been close, spending as much time together as possible in their youth. Clay had been the only one who was amazed by his magic, who called it beautiful and a miracle. It made the moments where his parents looked at him with fear easier.

  
Things started to turn around for George when he was 17. Things in the circle didn't get better, in fact, with each passing year things grew worse. The templar's aggression grew and the mages were punished for whatever mood swings the templars went through. The thing that did promise for a brighter future was a person. During his time in the Circle, George had kept himself mostly isolated from the other mages. At first, it had been a matter of pride, why would he need to form friendships if he was going to leave after a few months? Once the fact had sunk in that leaving wasn't an option, it had already been too late to make friends. Almost everyone had written him off as a quiet asshole...which George couldn't really blame them for if he was honest. 

  
The person that had brightened up George's days had been a templar, of all things.

  
Sapnap was different from the other templars his age. He was two years younger than George, his smile warm and his eyes kind. He reminded George a bit of Clay - maybe that was why George had let the other close in the first place. Sapnap was the only templar that was kind, that shamed the other templars when they became aggressive around mages. George always noticed the way Sapnap's face curled in disgust when older templars were particularly rough. It took them only a year to form a friendship, both finding solidarity with how much they hated their surroundings. Sapnap had been born in the order, his father being a high ranking templar - much like George, he didn't get a choice. Actually talking with someone regularly, someone who George knew he could trust, allowed him to find himself again.

  
At 21 George began planning his escape.

  
It took a year for everything to fall into place. A chance for him and Sapnap to get out of there. For them to leave the dark halls of the circle behind and to find the freedom George oh so craved.

  
The sun was setting beyond the colourful windows of the Circle. George knew that the first thing they'll do once they left this damn city, was to watch the sunset together, outside and not through coloured windows or gates, "George?" A female voice broke the brunette out of his thoughts and he turned to whoever had spoken. It was Mary, a young elven girl, George had helped her with her studies once, "The First Enchanter asked for you." The girl said, clutching the scrolls in her arms tightly. George pressed his lips together, his gaze moving down the hallway as Mary brushed past him and down to wherever she was headed. The First Enchanter was supposed to be a protector for the mages in the circles. That was what George had read anyway, however, First Enchanter Luvian was little more than a figurehead. George had met him a couple times now, each time templars stood tall behind him. Luvian was willing to do anything for them. The fact that he wanted to speak to George this close to Sapnap's and his escape attempt unsettled him deeply. 

  
George quickly began to make his way toward the office of the First Enchanter, ignoring the dread that was sinking deeper and deeper with each step.  
The purple wooden door was heavy under George's hand when he knocked and pushed it open. Like always, First Enchanter Luvian was sitting by his desk, hands folded in front of him with two templars by his side, "Ah, George, have a seat, my boy." His voice was rough but it held a certain kindness that George had always appreciated. The brunette sent him a tightlipped smile before slipping into the chair in front of him, staying silent as he waited for Luvian to speak. George knew better than to speak up without permission by now. 

  
"I'm worried about you, George," Luvian began and, George tried his hardest not to flinch, "You've been lacking in your studies recently. Coming late to class, submitting your homework late...you're still an apprentice George an,d you've never been this...lacking before. Is something going on?"

George felt the nerves bubble up in his throat, his gaze shifting from the First Enchanter and to the two templars behind him, both of their gazes glued firmly onto him. They knew something, they had to know something. George pressed his hands together, ignoring the sweat gathering there, "N-No, I just haven't been sleeping well lately. The work has been a bit...overwhelming if I'm honest." Luvian nodded, his lips pressed in a thin line, "I see. Well, I do have to admit that I asked your teachers to test you, see if you were ready."

"...Ready for what exactly, First Enchanter?" 

  
Luvian stayed silent for a moment, his eyes studying George's form intently but then he simply shook his head, "Nevermind that George. You're free to go. I'll be sure to have a talk with your teachers" He said, waving his hand dismissively into the air as his gaze finally broke away. George didn't need to be told twice and as quickly as he had entered the office, he was back outside. He leaned against the door for a moment, letting the nauseousness in his throat fade before pushing himself away and moving down the hallway. He needed to find Sapnap. 

  
George hurried through the halls he had grown up in. 10 years and they had never felt anything but cold to him. Even the blue robes on his body felt heavy, robes that had been made for him, robes made out of material he would have never even touched if he had grown up with his parents. George faltered in his step.

  
His parents.

  
George couldn't help but wonder if they were still in the city - even if they were, George knew that it would only hurt them if he went to see them. He doesn't expect to see his parents again, George had made his peace with that years ago.

  
He found Sapnap where the younger usually sat when he wasn't on patrol. He was inside the old library, a place that was now used to store multiple, useless fiction books. George had never actually read any of them, too busy with his studies to nurture hobbies as Sapnap had. At the sound of footsteps approaching, Sapnap finally looked up from the book in his hands, a smile immediately forming on his lips, "George, what's up man?" Sapnap closed the book with a soft thud, placing it on the table in front of him. However, as he finally took in the expression present on George's face, Sapnap's smile faltered, "George...?" 

  
"We have a problem Sapnap," George said, his voice low. The fear of being overheard loomed over him, despite the two of them being the only ones in the small library, "The first enchanter called me in for a meeting just now. It was..." George trailed off, his hands gripping the table tightly, "Weird. Worrying. They have to know something's up." Almost immediately colour drained from Sapnap's cheeks and he sucked in a deep breath, the chest plate of his armour moving up as he did so, "Shit, okay." Sapnap stood up abruptly, "What do we do? Should we move the plan up to tonight?" George opened his mouth to agree, but paused, his words faltering before they even left his lips. Wouldn't that be something they would expect? Sapnap and him would wait until nightfall to make their move instead of the date they had set originally. Finally, George shook his head, "No. We have to act now." 

  
"I'm sorry, what? Now?" 

  
George nodded determination flooding through his veins, "Yes, now. If they really know what we're up to, they would expect us to wait until tonight." George felt panic slowly move into his mind, his gaze moving down to focus on the table his hands were clutching. They had been so careful, was everything going to fall apart? Just like that? Two heavy hands, warm hands, were suddenly placed on his shoulders and George flinched, his gaze shooting up to meet Sapnap's eyes staring into his own. His eyes were kind, they always were, "George," Sapnap said, his voice careful, "You're overthinking, I need you to calm down." 

  
"I-I..yeah, right, sorry," George stumbled over his words and sucked in a deep breath, "It's just, we're so close Sapnap." George said after a small pause, his hands moving to rest on his friend's arms, "We're so close and I can't- I can't stay here any longer." Sapnap let his hands drop down to George's elbow and he smiled, "I can't imagine what it's been like here for you...what things you haven't told me. We just need to be careful George, we need to think about this. You know what will happen if we're found out. I'll be fine, but you won't be."

  
George clutched Sapnap's arms tighter, the armour beneath his fingers felt grounding and he took another deep breath, "Okay, right. What do you think we should do?" 

  
"Leaving now or leaving in a week wouldn't really change the risk we're taking. Everything is prepared, the clothes are hidden behind the garden, I've got money stashed away...whether we're discovered now or later wouldn't change the punishments." Sapnap explained and let his hands drop from George's shoulders, "But, I do have to agree that right now our chances might be higher."He said, his voice a bit stained, "I just don't want us to do anything irrational. You know what they'll do to you if they find out George." 

  
George sucked in a deep breath and gave a curt nod, they didn't need to voice the consequences. Both of them had witnessed enough punishments in the circle to know what awaited them. 

  
"I say we just go for it. We don't really have much to lose, do we?" George said finally, breaking the silence that had formed in the library. Sapnap looked up, immediately noticing the determination that had filled Geoge's gaze.

  
It was the first time Sapnap had seen George so sure of himself, "Yeah," He breathed out, "Let's go." 

  
The two began to set their plan into motion, parting ways as they exited the small library. George was aware of every templar he passed, every teacher and mage he crossed paths with on his way back to his room. They didn't act any different, they didn't send him glares or glances - maybe things would be alright. He burst into his room, grabbed the bag filled with the things he called his own and moved back into the hall. Almost immediately he broke out into a run. He wormed his way through the dark halls, up the stairs and onto the highest floor Sapnap and him had access to. As soon as George took the last stair he already spotted Sapnap standing by an open window. He had shed his armour and was now wearing only his casual clothes, though his signature templar sword still hung from his side, "And you're sure you can stop us from falling to our death?" Sapnap said without prompting, tearing his gaze away from the open window and toward George. 

  
The brunette moved to his side, casting his gaze outside. They were pretty high up if anyone jumped from here the fall was lethal. Good thing that was what both of them were counting on. George shrugged, "Probably."

  
"That's not really comforting George." 

  
The silence stretched between them, as they looked out of the wide window, the wind rushing inside and through the otherwise empty hallway. It was slowly sinking in for both of them, that in only moments they would be free of the walls that caged them. Sapnap was well aware that George was the one who had suffered more, torn away from his parents while Sapnap often communicated with his through letters. But they were both trapped, one way or another. 

  
"Let's go through the plan again, "George began, "We need to-" Someone clicked their tongue, a sound of annoyance that forced both of the young men to flinch, "I'm disappointed in you George." 

  
Luvian. 

Cold dread pooled in George's stomach as the old man ascended the stairs, coming to a stop only a few feet away from them - the Knight-Commander and countless other templars by his side. 

  
"I had big hopes for you. From the very first moment you came into the circle, I knew that you could become something great. If only we could grind you down hard enough." The kindness that was usually present in his voice was gone, replaced with cold disappointment, "And I thought we had. After that first year, you fell in line. It seems I was wrong." Luvian shook his head. 

  
George knew that they should move, lunge toward the window and to their freedom but he found himself frozen, rooted to the ground as he stared into Luvian's grey eyes. George felt his throat tighten, breathing not coming as easily as it should. His lungs burned, his heart rang in his ears and he couldn't breathe.

  
He just wanted to be free. Was that so much to ask? 

  
Something tugged in his chest, something cold and dark that didn't feel quite right. It curled around his mind and heart, urging him, beckoning him.  
Power. It promised the freedom George so desperately wanted.

  
A warm hand on his shoulder broke George out of whatever had taken hold of him, and he watched with blurred eyes as Sapnap brushed past him, forming a wall between him and the group in front of them, "Even if you escape, you won't come far." This was the first time the Knight-Commander had spoken up. June, a proud woman - one of the few templars that didn't let their frustrations out on the mages, "We'll tear the city apart to find you. You're unstable George." She hissed. 

  
Sapnap moved, his hand coming to rest on the sword that still hung from his hip. Almost immediately, June's attention snapped to Sapnap, her eyes narrowing. Before either of them could speak up, George made a decision. He took hold of Sapnap's hand and pulled him back - both of them stumbling toward the window. George could vaguely make out the shouts from the templars behind them as they stood at the edge, staring down at the ground, "George, we need to go, now!" Sapnap called, his gaze focused on the approaching men behind them. He didn't need to be told twice. 

  
One step forward and they were falling, air rushing over their face and hair, "They're going to get themselves killed! Get down there!" George heard the Knight-Commander shout, her voice muffled and fleeting as the wind flying past him. The ground was coming closer and closer and George closed his eyes, hand outstretched as he summoned a wind battling the ones from nature. 

  
His wind rushed against the two men, slowing their fall and allowing them to land on the ground with minimal pain.

  
The grass was soft underneath George's hands and he let out a laugh as he buried his hands into the plants, "Oh my god..." George breathed the tension that had been trapped in his chest for days slowly fading away as his heart raced in his chest. Next to him, Sapnap laughed as well, "We did it, we actually did it." The air was fresh in George's lungs and while they were not out of the woods yet, George felt the best he had in years. They didn't have time to relax, not yet anyway, and both men pushed themselves to their feet with shaking legs.

  
They took off running through the circle garden, the shouts of their pursuers following them as they made their way through the darkness. 

  
George was free and soon the circle would only be a bad memory. 

  
The mage followed Sapnap through the dark corners of the garden, the templar having planned their escape route months ago. They were silent, not wanting for their voices to carry across the wind. George didn't know how long they ran but when the shouting voices began to fade and they finally came to a stop in front of a rusted gate, George finally allowed himself room to breathe. 

  
Sapnap broke away from his side, moving to rummage around in the bush next to the gate, "I got you a cloak, makes it easier to hide until we find you something else." George took the brown cloak from his hands and swung it around his shoulders. The fabric felt rough under his hands, nothing like the fine fabrics he had worn for years.

  
He had never felt more at home. 

  
"George are you...what happened back there?" Sapnap said suddenly and George brought his gaze to meet his. Sapnap's eyes shone with worry, a worry that made George's stomach twist, "What do you mean?" 

  
Sapnap pressed his lips together, his eyes flickering back to the Circle tower looming behind them, "Back when the first enchanter appeared. You just kind of...blacked out."

  
George sucked in a breath, his mind flashing back to the feeling of the possible power he could have had. The power that he could have felt rushing through his veins if he had just agreed...agreed to what, George wasn't sure. He looked into Sapnap's eyes and shook his head, "I...I don't know. I think I just...paniced." George finally said, being the first to break the eye contact. Sapnap stayed silent, George could practically feel the doubt roll off of him in waves. Sapnap didn't say anything though and instead moved to push the rusty gate open.

  
Both of them stepped onto the overgrown path that led into the city, the lights shimmering in the distance. 

  
George was free.


	2. i never knew daylight could be so violent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That's the world. Everything you build, it tears down. Everything you've got, it takes—and it's gone forever. The only choices you get are to lie down and die or keep going. He kept going. That's as close to beating the world as anyone gets."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a graphic scene involving blood and murder - it's nothing too gory but please proceed with caution if such themes make you uncomfortable!
> 
> Thank you guys so much for all the comments and kudos so far! I really appreciate all the comment's I've gotten so far! 
> 
> The chapter summary is a quote from one of the Dragon Age games - something that'll continute to be a thing for the following chapters. Please enjoy!

There was a clear divide inside the city, between the lucky and the unfortunate.

  
It was a divide few were actually aware of, most spending their days minding their own business rather than actively observing their surroundings. There were the people who worked in the harbour, carrying boxes from one place to another. There were the people who spend their days throwing dinner parties and manipulating whatever merchant had stumbled into their home. It just so happened to be that most lucky lived in the higher districts, where the houses grew taller and bigger the further you went into the city. It was the same with the unfortunate - most lived in the lower districts, the ones closest to the harbour where the houses were small and the streets were dark.

  
Clay had been aware of that divide since he was a young child. He had been aware of how unstable your footing is in your respective side for just as long. One wrong step and you can tumble down from the lucky, you can lose your reputation, your money, everything that you own can be lost in the blink of an eye. The unfortunate have it much harder, no matter how hard they worked it still takes luck for them to be anything but the lowest of the city. 

  
Clay's mother had been one of the bourgeoisie, the only child of one of the most well-known architects of the country. His father had been the son of the captain of the city guard. A talented fighter who protected the city from whatever dangerous roamed around the undercity. They held wealth and status, their future had seemed bright and promising. By all means, Clay should have been lucky, been one of the people who lived high above the commoners and the influence of the church. 

  
Then his parents died, Clay couldn't even remember how, and with the age of five, he was gone from the lucky. The wealth from his parents, their reputation was gone - as if they had never existed in the first place. The only place that Clay could call his own back then was an abandoned warehouse down by the docks that he shared with ten other orphans. They weren't his friends, weren't his family, they were simply people who he shared his fate with. 

  
Clay had to wonder if he had ever been lucky in the first place. 

  
He didn't make an effort to make friends. Out on the streets with no parent to protect you, looking out for yourself was your top priority. Clay was the one who understood this the best. He didn't share the things he gathered, he kept his cards close to his chest. The other kids didn't like him and, Clay couldn't blame them - he wasn't exactly kind and open toward them. Clay honestly expected for the rest of his life to continue on like this, he'd grow up alone and, he'd die alone. 

  
His attitude, however, was changed one fateful day when Clay was seven. 

  
He had been practising his skills, jumping from roof to roof was bound to come in handy. However, as he landed on one of the housetops, a loud crack rang through the air and, the wood underneath his boots gave away. He crashed down, pain shooting up his back when he landed on the ground. When the dust had settled, Clay came face to face with another boy his age. His eyes were wide, his mouth hung open and, he looked absolutely ridiculous. Clay couldn't help the grin that formed on his lips, "Hey! I'm Clay!"

  
"I...what?" The boy spoke, his eyes sparkling with confusion, "Are you alright?" He had an accent. That was the first thing Clay noticed about the boy, the second thing was the out of place kindness in his voice. His eyes had softened now, shining with concern that made Clay feel uncomfortable. He wasn't used to having concern or worry directed toward him, "I'm fine." Then, the boy smiled, a wide grin that made his eyes shine. 

  
George was one of the lucky ones. Clay had realized that back then.

  
Moments later, George's mother had burst into the room, eyes wide and a knife clutched into her hand. Whatever she had expected to see, it hadn't been a young boy covered in dust because almost immediately her posture relaxed and the knife was dropped to the ground. 

  
That day marked the best thing that had ever happened to Clay.   
George was like a bright light in Clay's life. The darkness of his da

ily life, the stealing, the isolation, the hunger and cold, George somehow made everything much more bearable. They saw each other almost every day, Clay taught George how to jump rooftops and, George taught Clay how to read and write - as much as George could anyway. George's parents were kind. They welcomed Clay with open arms and, for the first time in Clay's life, he was feeling good.

  
The first time Clay was confronted with the reality outside himself, was when George disappeared.

  
They had parted ways where they usually did the night before, at the corner that broke off into the harbour and the path to George's house. George had smiled and waved excitedly before skipping down the pathway and disappearing behind the bushes just in front of George's house. Clay had watched him go before heading to the warehouse he called his home. The next morning, when George didn't come to their usual meet up spot, Clay decided to investigate.

  
Immediately he could tell that something was very, very wrong.

  
George's father was sitting on the front step of their house, his head buried in his hands - by the time George and Clay usually met up his father was already at work. Clay slowly approached, and when George's father looked up, Clay felt something cold settle in his stomach. He was crying and, when he saw Clay, the man's expression grew even more broken, "Oh Clay...what are you doing here?"

  
Clay shifted where he stood, "I was waiting for George but, he didn't come so...I thought..." His voice trailed off, unsure just what situation he had walked in on, "Where is George?" He added, his voice falling quiet.

  
George's father sighed and stood up, moving to the door. As the man pushed it open, Clay noticed that it was broken and only leaning against the frame. Clay followed him inside. The inside of the house was a mess. Some of the furniture was turned over and, the floor was covered with dirty footprints. Nothing like the tidy home Clay had come to recognize. His observation was interrupted when George's father spoke up, "You know about George's magic, right? I'm sure he told you, you two tell each other everything. They..." He took a deep breath, his gaze breaking away from Clay's wide eyes, "The templars found him. He's gone." Clay didn't listen to the rest of his words before he was already running outside.

  
Cold.

  
It was cold.

  
He really was one of the unfortunate, wasn't he?

  
The next years passed in a blur. Clay fully threw himself into the life he believed he deserved. He stole, threatened and didn't shy away from conflict. He was reckless, throwing himself into fights even if they weren't his own. Clay told himself that it was because it would allow for a reputation to form, allowing him to gain more and more influence. It was a lie, of course. 

  
He just wanted to feel something again, because, without George, his life felt cold and grey. 

  
Clay was angry all the time. Angry at himself for being weak, for not being able to get inside the circle. Angry at everyone and the world for letting things like this even happen. As he watched the templars patrol, watched as they tore children from their families, again and again, Clay couldn't help but wonder. Who gave them the right? Who gave them the right to use, to abuse, to tear apart. Clay heard about what happened in the circles, everyone did. They didn't care and Clay, with his lack of power, forced himself not to care either.

  
At 15, things started to get better.

  
He had slowly been bringing his criminal activities from the lower districts and into the higher districts. The wealthy people just promised more fruitful rewards and, Clay believed, rich people wouldn't notice if a few golden accessories went missing. He built up a reputation for himself and, it was bound that sooner or later, he'd run across someone he couldn't escape as easily as the city guards. Clay had been just about to escape another successful run, his bag filled with coins and other valuables when a tall shadow fell over the dimly lit alleyway

.   
Clay turned, alarms immediately going off in his head when he came face to face with Wilbur Soot.

  
Everyone knew Wilbur Soot. Even a lower district resident like Clay.

  
He was only a few years older than Clay but held himself tall, acting like the heir of a trading company that he was. Wilbur had made a name for himself as smart, as someone beyond his years. People looked up for him to become something great, they even believed he could lead the city someday. Clay, as much as his option was worth, thought Wilbur was a giant prick.

  
They had never met of course, but there had been talk about Wilbur searching for him and, Clay had found a few fancy-looking letters in front of his apartment. He never opened them, he didn't even want to give Wilbur the time of day. "Ah, the son of-" 

  
"Yes, I get it you knew my parents. What do you want?" Okay, maybe he opened the first few letters. 

  
Wilbur didn't even cast a glance toward the stolen goods inside of Clay's bag as he stepped closer, a cutting grin forming on the teenager's lips, "I want to form an alliance. I think we can help each other." 

  
Silence settled over the two of them. 

  
"I'm sorry what? You do know I'm a criminal right? Literally last month I stole your mothers' engagement ring." 

  
Wilbur laughed, a deep sound that bounced off the walls in the alleyway, "That's exactly why I want your help, Clay. You have the potential to rule the local underworld if you want to." His grin widened and, Clay would have almost called him a maniac if it weren't for how clear Wilbur's eyes shone. This man had plans for his life, "I'm going to be taking over my father's business in a few years and, things are working well now. But if we want to be on top, we need connections - not just legal ones, if you catch my drift."

  
Clay's eyes narrowed at Wilbur's words, "That sounds like a lot of work. What would be in it for me?"

  
"Protection, money, you can rob anyone in the higher districts to your heart's content with my inside knowledge." 

  
Clay didn't trust him. It sounded too good to be true, but if Wilbur was speaking the truth, Clay could maybe become the person he wanted to be. Who that was, Clay didn't know but...power.

  
Power sounded like a good thing to have.

  
"Fine." He agreed and, Wilbur's smile softened, "Good. We have a lot of work ahead of us."

  
Clay began protecting his identity - instead of running around with only a hood, Wilbur supplied him with a mask. It looked simple, white with a crude, black smiley face drawn onto it but Clay quickly realized that it could take a punch if it needed to. They changed his name and, as Clay ascended the unspoken ranks in the underworld, he quickly realized that Clay had died.

  
Clay had died that day in the alley, leaving behind Dream. A man who hid behind a mask and was more akin to a ghost than a human.

  
The relationship between Wilbur and him was odd. Dream didn't trust him but the rich boy was the only one Dream could call his ally. There were things both of them didn't tell the other, but in the end, they formed a tense friendship - based on mutual respect and the fact that both of them needed the other. Despite having a friend of sorts once again, George never left Dream's mind for long. George had been gone for three years now and, Dream didn't know if the other boy was dead or studying inside the clutches of the circle.

  
He didn't know which one was worse.

  
He often tried to get inside the tall tower but, even with his skills, Dream found that it was nearly impossible. He wasn't a religious person - the tales of the maker often sounding more like stories than legends but, Dream truly did pray for George's safety.

  
He killed for the first time a year later.

  
It was an accident, a robbery gone wrong. By the time the man had stepped into the room, eyes wide as he spotted Dream digging through his valuables, panic had already taken over Dream's mind. The man didn't run away, instead, he approached Dream, eyes shining with fury. Dream didn't know where the man had gotten it from but, suddenly there was a dagger in his hand. Dream wanted to move, to dodge out of the way but, he was frozen. He could only watch, his heartbeat echoing in his mind as the man raised his dagger and got ready to thrust it into Dream's body. 

  
Dream didn't know what happened but, by the time his mind focused again, the dagger was in his hands and rammed into the older man's throat.

  
The scent of copper invaded Dream's senses and the dark red liquid spilt over his hands. Dream stumbled back, the man crumbling to the ground without Dream's support and the teenager found himself frozen once again. He observed as the life in the man's eyes faded. Watched as his blood ran down his throat and painted the carpet underneath them dark. He felt sick. He was sick. Dream sunk to his knees, his eyes not leaving the body as his chest tightened. His breathing quickened and, the sudden need to get out of there overrode whatever thoughts he might have had.

  
Dream scrambled to stand up, forgotten were the valuables he had originally come for and he jumped through the window. He ignored the pain that shot up his legs as he landed and simply ran. He ran through the dark streets of the night without a clear goal in mind. Time was meaningless when he stopped in front of an all too familiar house. One of the rooms was still brightly lit up - the relieve Dream felt was overwhelming. He grabbed onto the climbing plants on the side of the house and began to make his way up.

  
The window was open and, Dream stumbled inside, falling to the ground with a thud - a noise that immediately caught the attention of the person inside, "Wilbur. Will." Dream gasped out, his breathing heavy. His mind swam with the image of what he'd done. The sickness in his stomach returned as his mind supplied the sight of blood pouring over his hands. Now that he was in the safety of someone he trusted, the dried blood on his hands made Dream want to throw up.

  
Dream heard a chair scraping against the floor, hurried steps against wooden floorboards and then, there were warm hands on his shoulders, pulling him up onto his knees. Gone was the cocky grin usually on Wilbur's lips, instead his eyes were wide with worry, "Dream? Clay. Wha-What happened?" He asked, his eyes raking over the dried blood on his hands and clothes.

  
Dream reached up, shaking hands clutching onto the expensive fabric of Wilbur's shirt. He chocked back a sob, "I didn't mean to. He- I don't know what happened."   
Wilbur's eyes widened in realization and, he sucked in a deep breath. He pulled away from Dream and moved to the door, locking it with a small click only to then return to Dream on the ground.

  
They didn't sleep that night. Instead, they spend the night trying to get rid of the blood on Dream's hands.

  
The blond would never admit this, but he had never been more grateful for Wilbur than in that moment.

  
The murder had been the newest topic of gossip under the rich by the next day. Almost immediately the city guard had been sent out to investigate and despite Wilbur's best efforts, some of it did manage to reach Dream. Every time he heard people speak about the murder, something sick and cold nestled itself deeper and deeper in Dream's chest. He often wondered what George would have thought if he knew that his old best friend had turned into a murderer. It got easier after a while, the sickening feeling he got every time he looked into the mirror faded with time and eventually, murder had just become a necessity.

  
The evening streets were busier than usual as Dream watched person after person pass him. A new night market had recently settled down in the streets of the higher district. With a new market such as this, new criminal activity wasn't far away. Dream had long since established himself in the city as someone to be feared. The one who called the shots if you wanted anything out of the shadows. At such an event like this, an event which would surely attract all kinds of attention, he did have to establish himself a little bit.

  
By the nervous glances the nearby merchants sent Dream, it was working well enough - he could let the gossip do the rest.

  
Slow and heavy footsteps approached Dream and, he could already tell who it was without even looking, "You're late." Dream said and, the familiar sound of Wilbur's huff broke through the warm summer air. At 22 years old, Dream was tall - a fact that made his profession much harder than it needed to be. Wilbur however - despite being only two years older, still held a good amount of hight above Dream, "Well, not all of us have as much free time as you do." 

  
Dream shrugged and pushed himself off the wall, the two of them beginning to walk through the festival side by side. During the day the festival didn't look too impressive. Just another basic market-festival that the city had already seen before. However, when the sun set over the city walls, the market showed a new side. The streets were brightly lit with colourful lanterns, bathing the patrons in purple, pink, orange and red. The air was heavy with the scent of spices and sweets and, Dream found himself enjoying the festival atmosphere.

  
Only a handful of years ago a sight like this would have confused the onlookers. Someone as shifty-looking as Dream, with his cheap, dark green hoodie and leather armour, walking side by side with the mighty Wilbur Soot, with his expensive coat and silk shirt. However, after Wilbur had taken over his parent's business and established himself as someone more shifty than his father, people had learned to turn a blind eye to the figures he spent time with. "How are Tommy and Tubbo?" Wilbur asked as they made their rounds.

  
A small laugh escaped Dream, "You're asking me? You spend much more time with those kids than I do." 

  
"Well..." Wilbur began but, Dream interrupted him, "I can't believe you're turning soft Willbur." He grinned and Wilbur huffed, shoving his shoulder into Dream's - an action that caused the blond to laugh.

  
Over the years, Dream had gathered quite a few contacts and allies, most of which were supplied by Wilbur. However, Wilbur was idealistic and, it was often left for Dream to actually decide who was valuable or not. With Tommy and Tubbo however, Dream hadn't exactly gotten a choice, not that he minded, they were both smart kids. But Dream still tried his best to keep them on the side of Wilbur's business rather than Dream's - he didn't want them growing up the same way he had.  
"I just haven't seen them in a while and, since they literally live in the same place as you, I figured I'd ask," Wilbur spoke with a shrug, trying his hardest to sound unbothered. However, Dream could read him easily - it had been a bit of a surprise when he grew so soft so quickly for the two children, "They're fine. I asked them to observe the market this morning but, they should be on their way back to the bar now. Niki'll take care of them."

  
Wilbur hummed in acknowledgement, "Did they find out anything useful?"

  
"Tubbo said he sensed some magic at one of the stalls. He wanted to investigate it tomorrow again, to be sure. Could become useful in the long run. Other than that? Nothing of interest." 

  
Silence fell over the two men and, they soon reached the edge of the market, settling down on a bench sheltered by shadows. The summer air was pleasant, "Joline Bourgasie is going to be out of town in a few days. She might have some useful stuff." Wilbur said, picking at his fingernails. Dream hummed gently and opened his mouth to reply, however, the sound of armour clanking and heavy footsteps gave him pause. He pulled his attention away from Wilbur and toward the source of the noise. The armour and red banners were all too familiar. Templars.

  
The familiar feeling of anger bubbled in Dream's chest and, he sneered, glancing away from them, "Fucking bastards." He murmured.

  
Thanks to Wilbur, Dream had been doing much, much better in managing and taking care of himself. It wasn't as cold anymore, he wasn't that angry anymore either. But Templars, with their shining armour and glowing swords, made Dream feel sick to his stomach every time he saw them. They were monsters, in his eyes, not only for what they did to George but also because of the many things Dream had witnessed himself.

  
They abused the power they were given. Dream would have them gone from this world if he had any say in it. 

  
However, despite the anger in his chest, Dream did notice that the templars seemed more...hectic than Dream had ever seen them. They moved into every street, every alleyway and stopped every civilian to ask them something. Dream glanced at Wilbur and, the two of them shared worried looks. Dream was just about to stand. Planning to disappear into the crowd and avoid any interaction with the templars, when the two of them were already approached by one. "Excuse me, have you seen a circle mage or someone with a templar sword?" Dream paused at the question, did a circle mage manage to escape? 

  
Good for them, he supposed.

  
Wilbur was the first to answer, "I don't believe so. Why? Did one find their way outside?" His voice was condescending and not toward the mage who had managed to free themselves. The templar frowned and spoke with narrowed eyes, "I wouldn't worry about it, sir. We'll make sure he won't be able to escape the city" The woman saluted before heading off, joining back with her comrades.

  
Dream sighed and leaned further onto the bench, "The nerve of those bastards. If someone managed to get out, I say they earned their freedom, wouldn't you agree?"

  
Wilbur stood up, stretching his arms above his head with a small groan, "Who knows? Magic can be pretty dangerous after all." 

  
Dream followed suit, standing up as well, "You just haven't witnessed it. Magic is beautiful." The other man threw Dream a curios gaze, "And you have?" Dream's mind flashed back to George, as it often did. It reminded him of how George's eyes would light up when his magic did what he wanted it to. When he managed to make Dream fly for a few seconds before his magic wind had faded. But it also reminded him of the times when George got too emotional and he accidentally set fire to a small barn outside the city, or when he had cried his heart out to Dream - had explained how scared his parents looked every time they had an argument with him. As if he were some kind of bomb.

  
Dream's hear throbbed painfully at those memories, "I think it's complicated." Is all Dream said, earning an odd look from the man next to him, "Plus what about Tubbo?"

  
"He's managing. We both know he's trying his best."

  
Dream sucked in a small breath. Wilbur wasn't wrong, but Tubbo's situation wasn't nearly as easy as it was when they first met.

  
A year ago, Wilbur had come to the bar Dream called his home with two scared looking boys by his side. Dream didn't know their story and, Wilbur simply said that he had found them and offered help - help Dream was willing to support. They found out about Tubbo's magic shortly after through an accident. Tubbo had clearly not intended to tell them and, Tommy had been willing to take his friend's secret to the grave. Dream's chest always hurt when he thought back to that moment, Tubbo's eyes wide with horror and fear and Tommy in front of him, his hands clutched tightly and eyes strong with fury. If it hadn't been him and Wilbur finding out, Dream was positive that Tommy would have decked them.

  
The two reminded Dream of George and him, in a way - of what could have been.

  
Wilbur was cautious of magic but, even he agreed that telling the templars about the boy was like signing his death warrant. So instead they sheltered him and tried their best to help with the magic inside of him. It turned out that something like that was much harder than they first believed. Tubbo tried his best, often spending hours upon hours in his room, practising magic. Dream had asked him once what it felt like when his magic wouldn't do what he wanted it to. Tubbo had explained it as a lack of focus, though that hadn't really explained anything to Dream.

  
Dream and Wilbur slowly began to make their way back to the lower districts, where Dream's bar was situated, "I was thinking of getting some books for Tubbo from the west." Wilbur spoke suddenly, "To help him, you know?"

  
"From the west?"

  
Wilbur hummed gently, "Yes, I hear they're more accepting. I think it would be good for him, you know? I worry about him." Dream glanced at the man walking by his side and spotted the slight worry in his eyes. Dream knew where he was coming from if the templars caught wind of Tubbo there wasn't much that they could do. If you objected the templars publicly as someone like Wilbur, you could kiss your reputation goodbye. Wilbur would lose everything he had worked for.

  
Plus Tommy, he wouldn't let Tubbo go without a fight - if the templars caught wind of Tubbo, Tommy would surely go down with him. Dream wouldn't let that happen. He knew that Wilbur felt the same.

  
It didn't take long for them to arrive at the bar. The inside was warm, Tubbo and Tommy were sitting at a table in the corner, playing some sort of card game. As soon as Wilbur and him entered, the heads of the teenagers snapped to them, "Big D! Wilbur!" Tommy called, immediately forgetting the cards in his hands and pushing himself away from the table he had been sitting at. "I told you not to call me what Tomm-" Dream interrupted himself with a sigh as Tommy rushed past him and toward Wilbur. 

  
Tubbo had stood up as well, approaching the group, "Where's Niki?" Dream asked. The brunette teenager smiled, "She already went home for the day, so it's just us."   
Soon enough Tubbo's attention drifted toward Wilbur as well and, the three of them were holding a conversation Dream didn't bother listing to. He headed upstairs and into the hallway that led to the multiple bedrooms in the building. Dream was pretty sure this place had been an inn at some point - though now Dream kept all the bedrooms for private use.

  
He headed into his own room and sighed when the door fell shut behind him. The exhaustion of the day was slowly sinking in. His gaze fell onto the white mask beside his bed, another sigh falling from his body. He hadn't done a robbery in a while, though today was not the day for something like that - Dream felt too unfocused and restless to do anything that required effort. He moved through his room, pushing away stray shirts and pushed his window open - letting the warm air fall into his room. The city was shining brightly, the lights of the market even reaching down into the lower district. The higher districts hung over the rest of the city, but from here Dream could see just how much the Circle of Magi was looming over the entire town. 

  
He hated it. He really did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if the ages for the characters so far were clear, so here's a list of the ages for the characters introduced so far.
> 
> George - 22  
> Dream - 22  
> Wilbur - 24  
> Sapnap - 20  
> Tubbo - 16  
> Tommy - 16 
> 
> Also, as it turns out making a specific playlist for a story you're writing helps a lot with focusing - who would have thought?


	3. if you hold me, then all of this will go away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The stone is cracked, split, jagged. The hawk would have been safe if it had stayed, but that isn't what hawks do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over 160 kudos???? That is literally insane, thank you guys so much! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

The forest had always seemed like a wall - perfectly keeping the city borders away from the Circle. Maybe it had been an attempt to make the circle seem more isolated than it really was or maybe, it was simply to keep out curious eyes. George wasn't sure, but the forest had seemed much smaller when he'd look down on it from the windows of the circle. It was a bit unnerving, walking further and further into the depth of the forest with nothing but the muted city lights to guide them. There were no paths here, no lanterns, nothing. It seemed almost completely untouched, safe for the occasional old wooden house that seemed to have been built by neighbourhood children.

  
George had no idea where they were going and even Sapnap, who had made sure to know their escape route by heart, seemed unsure as to just where they were going. It was almost unsettling how silent the forest was. There were no shouts or footsteps that showed any signs that the templars were still pursuing them. Either they had lost them or simply decided to head into the city immediately in an attempt to cut them off. The only noise accompanying the two men were the distant sounds of shuffling animals and their own footsteps, "Do you think this counts as a forest or only as a grove?" Sapnap suddenly said, breaking the silence with a somewhat unsteady voice. It seemed George wasn't the only one who still felt shaken from their escape.

  
"A grove is usually just a couple trees, right? I think this is too big to count as one." 

  
Slowly the silence of the forest gave away to the muffled sounds of a crowd. The scent of wet wood and leaves were replaced just as quickly by spices and sweets. George frowned, "What's going on?" It may have been ten years since George had last set foot inside the city, but he never recalled the city as smelling so...festive. Even back when he and Clay would chase each other through the upper districts, the air had always been filled with the scent of perfume or flowers. 

  
Both of them stopped moving when colourful lights spilt into the dark shadows of the forest, "The western market." Sapnap breathed out and he began to grin, "I completely forgot about it. George this is perfect!" The ex-templar took hold of George's arm and dragged both of them forward until the market came fully into view. While confusion bubbled in George's chest, it was quickly overshadowed when he came to witness the scene in front of them.

  
Most of his view was still obscured by the bushes Sapnap and him began to hide behind, but it was so..bright. People were laughing, moving through the streets like water. There were only a handful of stands that George could see but they were selling foods he had never seen before, books, and beautiful accessories. George wanted nothing more than to look at everything this market had to offer - to scroll through new books and learn new stories. Sadly, such a wish was impossible to provide. "If we're seen, we can easily slip into the crowd and find an inn to stay at for the night. If anyone does sport your circle robes, there's a big chance they'll simply mistake you for a foreign merchant." Sapnap whispered, breaking George out of his thoughts.

  
"Stay at an inn? That's a horrible idea - the templars will be searching the entire city for us." George hissed back, his gaze breaking away from the street in front of him and to his friend.

  
Sapnap was still looking into the street when he replied, "Think about it George - will they really expect us to stay in the city? They'll be looking around the city gates the entire night and only by tomorrow, they'll start to go through the city. It's our best bet to wait for now. Plus, I already know exactly which inn would be good for the night."

  
George fell silent his lips pressing together in a thin line. Either they'd go now when the templars were on high alert, or they'd try their luck in the morning. In the end, George knew that Sapnap was right - the templars would expect them to try and get outside the city as soon as possible, and if they began traversing through the streets now, the chances of being spotted were too high. George wouldn't shy away from fighting if they had to, but there wasn't much a mage could do against people who were specifically trained to fight against and suppress magic. Sapnap reached for George's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze, "We'll be fine George. We'll be far away from this place by this time tomorrow."

  
He smiled and George felt some of the tension in his chest lessen, "Fine." George said reluctantly, his shoulders falling.

  
The two of them began moving to the right, staying low behind the cover of the bushes and underwood. The streets were still too busy and while they were good for an escape route, the mage and templar had both agreed that trying to get to the inn without being seen was a better plan. They finally reached a less populated area, the sounds and smells of the market now only muffled noise. However, two men kept George and Sapnap from leaving their cover. George was just about to curse their luck, his knees already hurting from crawling around the dirt for so long - when the men stood up from the bench. George caught just the end of their conversation before they moved out of sight, their backs turned toward the duo.

  
"Who knows? Magic can be pretty dangerous after all." 

  
"You just haven't witnessed it. Magic is beautiful."

  
"And you have?" The other man fell silent for a moment, "I think it's complicated."

  
The rest of the men's conversation fell silent as they moved out of earshot, "What...?" George trailed off, his gaze moving toward Sapnap. His friend seemed unfazed by the conversation they just witnessed - the exact opposite of how breathless George suddenly felt.

  
All of his life George believed that Clay might have been the exception - one of the few people who didn't see mages as monsters. Everyone else that George had met outside the circle, even his own parents, had always believed magic to be a curse. Something awful that slowly tainted you as you grew.

  
He had no idea people outside the circle could think like this.

  
"George? You coming?" Sapnap's voice suddenly broke the brunette out of his thoughts again. He turned to see Sapnap already pushing the branches from their cover away, "Oh, yeah, hold on." George said and quickly followed him out onto the street. As the two of them stood to their full height, George couldn't help but stretch his arms above his head with a small groan. He pushed the hood from his cloak over his head and pulled the fabric closer to his body, "Is that normal? People not being afraid of magic out here?"

  
Sapnap stopped observing their surroundings and instead pulled his attention to George, "What do you mean?"

  
"Well...I just haven't heard someone call magic beautiful in a long time."

  
Sapnap's face softened and his gaze moved into the direction the men had disappeared to, "I don't know honestly. I never really interacted with a lot of the people living in the city but..." He trailed off, his gaze moving back to George, a soft smile now tugging on his lips, "I do know that not everyone supports what the circle does. Most of them are just too afraid to do something - in a way."

  
George chuckled weakly, "You're so nice to me today. You sure I didn't accidentally enchant you?"

  
George's words pulled a laugh out of Sapnap and the younger moved to shove the mage - sticking out his tongue as he did so, "As if. You wish you were strong enough to enchant me. And anyway, tomorrow I'll bully you like always."

  
George snorted, opening his mouth to retort - however, the distant sound of armoured feet hitting stone broke the playful atmosphere like glass. The smiles on the men's faces fell away in an instant and they shared a look before rushing into one of the smaller side streets close by. George mentally cursed himself. They were still very much in danger, standing around in the open bantering was not something they could afford to do. Once the two of them were sure they were out of sight from the main street, their run fell back into quick steps.

  
"Do you know where the inn is from here?" George asked, his eyes raking over their surroundings. The street they were standing in was a simple residential street, small for the higher districts. The festival from before seemed like a faraway memory in the darkness of the street, "Yeah, we should be pretty close to it actually." Sapnap mumbled, leading George further into the darkness.

  
Eventually, they turned a corner and the main street once again came into view. The two of them stopped just out of sight, their gazes scanning over the main street. It was much emptier than it had been before. The people that were still outside looked uneasy, walking through the street with hurried steps, "What happened?" George asked. It was a big change from how happy the festival had seemed only moments before.

  
Sapnap's eyes were focused, his lips pressed together as he scanned the street in front of them for any dangers, "I'm guessing word about your escape got out. As much as some dislike the circle, most are still too afraid of magic. They're afraid of you." Disappointment curled into George's chest. He knew that it wouldn't be easy outside the circle, but he hadn't fully realized just how scared people seemed to be out here.

  
Scared of him and what he could do.

It left a bitter taste on his tongue. That these people weren't completely wrong. Back when George was younger, when he hadn't gone through the teachings of the circle yet, he had always felt magic. The magic was like lava, running through his veins, bubbling beneath his skin. Every breath that he took begged him to use it, to bend reality to his will. Back then George hadn't thought anything of it - that's just how magic was but looking back on it...it unsettled George deeply.

  
Magic had to be limited or it would eventually consume you.

  
As a child, you didn't know these limits, didn't know where to even begin, but these limits should be set by no one but the mages themselves. Templars didn't know what it felt like, the power underneath your skin - a power you were always aware of no matter what you were doing. The powers that templars had were nothing but a cheap copycat.

  
His magic now was softer, a comforting warmth that felt more like a protective hold than the bubbling power from before. George much more preferred this magic, even with everything he had to go through to gain this control. They could have taught him differently - magic wasn't inherently dangerous, even if it was in the hands of a child.

  
"The inn is right across the street. We're almost there." Sapnap whispered.

  
As the streets cleared further, Sapnap finally signalled for them to move. As calmly as both of them could manage, they stepped out of the shadows and onto the lit-up street. Neither of them hesitated as they crossed the cobbled street, the inn almost shining like a safe haven. Finally, the front door came closer, and as George reached for the handle, he almost expected for templars to jump out of nowhere and capture them. With George's luck, he was more surprised when his hand managed to wrap around cold metal and pull the door open.

  
The inside of the inn was lit up with warm light. There was a tired-looking woman behind the counter. When she saw Sapnap and George enter, however, a smile formed on her lips, "Welcome, here for a room?" She asked as the two men stepped up to the counter.

  
George stayed a bit behind Sapnap, his hood still firmly placed on his head. Sapnap understood his silence clearly, "Yes. A room with two beds if you please. The two of us have a long journey behind us." Sapnap grinned but George could see the tension behind it. The woman nodded and turned to the keys hanging behind her, "I see - it's a shame you just arrived. Things have been rather troubling recently."

  
"How so?" Sapnap asked, faking ignorance.

  
"Oh, it's horrible, really. Word got around that a mage got out of the circle - I know the templars will do their best to catch them but it's truly unsettling, don't you think? Knowing that a mage could just be roaming around our city?" The woman shuddered and finally turned back to face Sapnap. George suppressed a flinch at her words, his hands curling around the rough fabric of his cloak. Sapnap's smile tightened, however, he made no motion of objecting, "Ah well, where I'm from things are much more relaxed."

  
"Oh maker, I couldn't imagine." The woman shook her head and finally placed a key engraved with the number 208 onto the wooden counter, "For how many nights will you be staying?"

  
"Just the one."

  
The woman nodded and after the money was exchanged, Sapnap and George quickly made their way up the stairs and through the inn hallway. The door to their room was unlocked and only after the door closed behind him, did George let the tension in his bones wash away. The realization that they would be safe here for the night settled the underlying panic that had been following George for the entire day. It felt good to finally relax, even if it was just for a little bit. George watched as Sapnap let himself drop onto one of the beds, a deep sigh falling from the younger's lips, "God I'm so glad to finally be out of the open."

  
George nodded wordlessly, his gaze moving through the room instead. It was small but comfortable, just big enough to hold two beds and a desk comfortably. A handful of papers on the desk was what caught George's attention the most though, and he moved to take one of them into his hands. It was a detailed headshot painting of a man. His face was obscured by a creepy looking mask - white with only a black smiley-face drawn onto it. His hair was messy, most of it covered by a hood. All that was written underneath it was - "DREAM - WANTED ALIVE "

  
"Who's this?" George asked.

  
Sapnap hummed in question and pushed himself up from the bed, moving to glance over George's shoulder, "Oh, that dude." Sapnap said, snatching the paper out of George's hands. He ignored George's protest and observed the poster closer, "I heard some of the other templars talk about him. Apparently, he steals from the rich and uses the money to finance himself. Some even rumour that he's working for one of the nobles." The younger put the paper back onto the desk and threw himself back onto the bed.

  
George's gaze lingered on the paper, his face stretched into a frown, "He looks really creepy, wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley." George moved to the other bed and shrugged off his cloak, letting it drop onto the ground beside it.

  
Sapnap chuckled, "Very true. Not like he's going to be a problem, we'll be out of here by tomorrow." He said, pushing himself deeper into the bedding.

  
George let himself drop down onto the bed as well, the mattress sinking under his weight. His gaze moved back to Sapnap and he couldn't help but smile slightly as he noted how relaxed his friend looked, "Sapnap."

  
"Mhm?"

  
"I never actually thanked you. You're the only reason I was able to get out of there - the only one who made things not so horrible in there, to be honest."

  
"George..."

  
"I just..thank you, Sapnap."

  
Sapnap smiled and pushed himself up to lean on his elbows, "Hey man, it's no problem. What happens in there it's..." His face soured, "It's awful. I don't know everything that happened, but I think we both saw our fair share. Honestly, you were the one who made me realize that what was going on in there wasn't okay." Sapnap paused, his gaze breaking away from George, "I'll admit...when I was younger I agreed with everything that was being said about mages. When I got assigned to my first circle...it wasn't at all how I expect it to be." Sapnap sighed and he let himself fall onto his back again, "Everyone in there acted like it was fine. The other mages acted like they weren't miserable and scared. When I think back on how I used to think....it makes me sick. My father still thinks like that - god knows how he'll react when he hears about what happened today."

  
George stayed silent for a moment. The realization that Sapnap had once thought the exact same as the other templars should have unsettled the brunette, but George couldn't really blame him. Sapnap had grown up surrounded by those believes after all, "What's important is that you changed. I'm sure your father will come around - with time." George said - his voice pulling Sapnap to look back to him. They shared a smile and after a few moments of silence Sapnap whined, "Aw, man come here." Sapnap leaned forward, his arms open in a hug. George laughed and let himself sink into his friends' arms.

  
The position was awkward - leaning over the gap of the two beds made George's muscles ache, but he felt warm and good. Maybe everything really was going to be fine.

  
They were free, they made it out of there.

  
The realization of it made George's heart soar.

  
George pulled back, his arms still resting around Sapnap, "We actually made it. We're actually free!" George said with a giddy grin. Sapnap joined in with his laugh, "We did! We are!" George couldn't wait for his future, he couldn't wait to be out of the city and laugh with Sapnap so freely every day.

  
Eventually, when the stars stood bright in the sky, George and Sapnap both settled into their respective beds - the excitement and fear of the day finally changing into exhaustion. George felt warm and surprisingly safe as he fell into a deep slumber.

  
When George opened his eyes, he wasn't in the inn anymore. Instead, he was surrounded by a never-ending brightness, "Hello?" George called, his voice echoing through the room, bouncing off unseen walls.

  
Suddenly, there was a woman, a woman George recognized. His mother hadn't aged a day, her smile bright and welcoming. Her image flickered, replaced by Sapnap in the blink of an eye, a wide grin on his lips as he looked at George with shining eyes.

  
Sapnap stayed longer than his mother, giving George time to fully take in the image in front of him. The brunette quickly realized that this wasn't the Sapnap he knew. This one was younger, he looked just how George remembered he did - all those years ago when they first met. George moved, taking a step closer, but then the image flickered again, changing into the size of a child.

  
It was Clay. The 12-year-old boy stared up at George with a wide grin. One of his teeth was missing and his freckles were covered in dirt, his hair was messy and his clothes hang from his frame. There was a bruise forming just below Clay's collar, peeking out from underneath his shirt. Something twisted in George's stomach - he had never fully realized just how beaten up Clay had looked when they were kids.

  
This time Clay was the one to step forward, "George!" He called, his voice high and achingly familiar - George couldn't help but step closer again and the grin on Clay's lips widened.

  
"What's...What's going on?" George's voice didn't sound right, it was too high, the accent a bit too thick. And suddenly his vision changed and he was face to face with Clay, looking right into his green eyes as if he wasn't a 22-year-old man. George looked down at himself and realized with a sinking feeling that he wasn't an adult anymore. He was wearing the clothes his mother had always made for him when he was a child.

  
Clay moved forward, grabbing hold of George's hand - causing the mage to look up at the boy in front of him. His smile was still so bright, George hadn't seen it in years. This was a dream, it had to be - "I'm proud of you George. You got out." Clay's hold on his hand was tight and his hand was cold, "But next time you need to let me help. It's still too dangerous for you."

  
Sudden dizziness filled George's mind and he squeezed his eyes shut, the brightness of the room around them hurting his eyes, "What? Clay...what's going on?"

  
The grip on his hand tightened, almost bordering on being painful, "With me, you'll be fine."

  
When George opened his eyes again, the white room was gone and he came face to face with the ceiling of the inn. His body felt strangely heavy and George took a deep breath, his eyes falling shut once more. The inn room was quiet, the only sound being the soft snores from Sapnap on the other bed.

  
George dreamt often and vividly, a side effect of the magic inside of him. The fade, the land most races in the world went to when they dreamt, had a bit of a different meaning for mages. They tapped into the fade every time they cast a spell, the fade was the source of their powers - so to speak. It made dreams often much stronger. George tended not to dwell on the dreams that felt too real but this one...this one felt different. He'd never dreamt of Clay before, at least not in a way that made him feel so unsettling - so fake.

  
George turned onto his side, his gaze falling onto Sapnap and the window behind him. The sun was already beginning to rise, painting the grey sky with soft orange and blue. He pushed himself to sit up, the blanket falling from his body and pooling around his waist. They needed to leave, they didn't have a lot of time left, "Sapnap." George spoke, his voice still soft with sleep. The other man only groaned in protest and turned to face away from George. The brunette sighed and cleared his throat, trying to rid his voice from sleep before he spoke up again, "Sapnap! Wake up."

  
Slowly, the other man's eyes opened and he rubbed his face, "How late is it?"

  
"I don't know. But the sun is rising, we need to go." 

  
Sapnap sat up as well, stretching his arms up with a small groan. He glanced at George, "You okay? You look a little pale." 

  
George pushed himself up from the bed, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to look less sleepy, "Yeah, I just had a strange dream, is all." Sapnap nodded, though worry still shone in his eyes. George smiled, an effort to calm whatever thoughts were running through his friends' mind, "It's fine. Probably just from all the excitment today." He didn't look convinced.

  
In the end, the two of them didn't linger any longer and soon made their way downstairs. The desk at the front was still empty and Sapnap simply placed the key they had gotten onto the desk before the two of them left the building.

  
The air outside was still fresh with morning dew and the coldness of it washed away any sleepiness George might have had. The streets were still empty, safe for a couple of working-class citizens that were on their way to work. Sapnap turned to the left and George followed as they made their way through the streets, "We'll head to the south gate, the one-" 

  
George interrupted Sapnap's words, "The one that leads onto the plains. I know it, me and a friend used to spent a lot of time there when we got sick of the city." In the summer months, when the lower districts grew too hot, he and Clay often raced onto the plains and tussled on the grassy fields. George couldn't help but smile at the memory. When he glanced back to Sapnap, the younger had a smile on his lips, "What?"

  
Sapnap laughed softly and shook his head, "Nothing. It's just...you never talked about your past so freely before. It's nice."

  
George sucked in a small breath and shrugged, suddenly feeling a bit bashful, "I don't know...back then those memories were the only thing I still had from out here. Saying them out loud felt like making them...less, I suppose." 

  
"But not anymore?" 

  
George smiled, "Oh, no. I can make more memories out here now." Sapnap barked out a laugh, it sounded much more joyful than any of the ones George had heard before, "That you can! We'll settle down in a city somewhere in the west, get ourselves some friends - maybe even a cute girl." Sapnap grinned and nudged George with his elbow. George only laughed softly and the two fell into a comfortable silence.

  
The streets were weirdly devoid of any templars, non were patrolling and non seemed to be looking around for the escapees. It made George feel uneasy - at least if they saw the templars George knew what they were planning. As they moved from the higher districts to the lower residential districts, the cobble streets morphed into dirt paths. Most of the lower districts had only dirt roads or badly kept up cobble streets, however, the roads that led straight to the harbour were just as clean as the ones from the higher districts. George didn't like those roads when he was younger - much more preferring to roll around in the dirt with his friends.

  
The southern gate was one of the few entrances to the city that only had dirt paths leading to it. It was used by farmers or simply the citizens of the lower districts. George didn't know how Sapnap knew it but it was one of the less travelled gates - perfect to get out of the city undetected.

  
That was what George thought before the gate came into view.

  
The street was filled with people and at the entrance of the gate, two templars stood, proud and shining under the morning sun. One after another the civilians moved toward one of them, held out their papers and only then were they allowed to exit through the gate. George felt something cold settle into his stomach, "Oh no."George whispered and let himself sink against the wall of one of the houses.

  
They were controlling everyone who tried to exit the city.

  
They were trapped.

  
Again.

  
Next to him, Sapnap wasn't as calm. His first collied with the wall opposite of them, "Fuck! Fuck." George flinched at Sapnap's harsh voice. The younger sucked in a harsh breath and ran a hand through his hair, "Fuck, this is my fault, if we hadn't stayed at the inn we'd be out by now." Sapnap's face was pulled in a frown and Geoge could see the guilt settling into his eyes, "What was I thinking? Such an idiot."

  
George couldn't ignore the dread forming in his chest. He could feel his heart ring in his mind, his hands shaking with the urge to blame Sapnap too, but he shook his head - this was no one's fault.

  
George reached out, his hand moving to rest on his shoulder, "Hey, no. Sapnap, you were right. Yesterday the streets were swarming with templars - today we walked the entire way with not seeing a single one. Staying was the only way." George forced those words past his lips but judging by the look that the younger gave him, he could hear the underlying fear in his voice. Sapnap's shoulder relaxed and he moved to face George fully, taking a deep, steadying breath, "You're right, you're right. I'm sorry."

  
They both needed to keep a clear head - panic only lead to rash decisions and rash decision led to danger. If they staid together they'll be fine - George knew this. They'd be fine, they survived the circle together. They'll survive this too. 

  
"Would it work if we got fake passports? They know our names, but do all of them know what we look like? Do you think they'd recognize you?" George was sure he'd stay unrecognized if he changed out of his circle robes. It was rare for a templar to know a mage by anything other than their name. Sapnap, however, had worked together with the templars for years. If anyone was recognized out of the two of them, it would be him.

  
Sapnap pressed his lips together, his gaze contemplative, "I don't know. Some might, especially the ones closest to our age I..." He sucked in a breath, "I don't know. Probably the ones that I recognize will recognize me too. If we can avoid them we'll be fine."

  
George nodded, "Okay, so we need a passport - getting one officially isn't an option so...what do we do?" 

  
"Well...we could always try and get one illegally?"

  
"...Illegally?" George said slowly, his gaze moving to Sapnap, "How would we do that? Do you know how to get in touch with the local underworld?" Sapnap stayed silent, smiling rather sheepishly, "Thought so." George said after a while, a small sigh falling from his lips.

  
"Okay, so we have no idea where we could get passports, but do you have a better idea?"

  
George didn't reply, because, in truth, he really didn't.

  
"Exactly," Sapnap said, sounding quite happy with his line of thinking. George knew Sapnap was right, as he often was. But this plan sounded much harder to set into motion than any others. "Listen," Sapnap began again, "How about we just go into the first shady looking bar we find and start asking around?" This time, Sapnap received a blank stare, "Are you serious?"

  
"Well, yes, there's nothing else we can really do." 

  
George let out a breath and he already felt himself agreeing to Sapnap. It was a bit embarrassing, how easily Sapnap broke down his resolve - then again, it wasn't like they had much of a choice in the first place. It wasn't long until the two of them finally moved away from the little corner and began to track back through the streets.   
They entered the first bar they came across, a small building which looked as if it was just bearly standing straight. The door creaked loudly when George pushed it open and Sapnap held back a wince as they entered. It was still early in the morning, so neither of them were surprised when the bar only held a handful of patrons. Behind the counter stood a man, he only glanced up once - wrinkled his nose and then put his attention back to whatever he was doing before.

George wasn't surprised about the distaste radiating off the people inside. He was sure that to them, Sapnap and George looked like two noble boys who decided to have an adventure in the more "dangerous" part of the city. The two of them moved to the counter, earning another glance from the man behind it, "What do you want?" He asked - his voice rough and filled with disinterest.

  
George pressed his lips together and his gaze moved over to Sapnap next to him. Unlike in the inn yesterday, Sapnap was not in his element anymore. He may have been a templar, but he still grew up in a rich family. Not that George was any better, he hadn't been in the lower districts since he was a child, "Ehm...We want to make contact with someone." 

  
The man raised his eyebrow, "What are you talking about?"

  
"We need passports and we were wondering if you knew of anyone that could help us?" George answered, shifting lightly where he stood. 

  
The man fell silent, his gaze moving over George and then to Sapnap. His gaze lingered longer on the younger and his eyes hardened, "I can't help you." George was just about to protest, but Sapnap's hand on his shoulder stopped the brunette from doing so. George's gaze moved to him and Sapnap nodded his head toward the patrons around them. They seemed to have caught the attention of everyone inside - weary eyes focused on only the two. Almost immediately, George snapped his mouth shut. 

  
They left the bar quickly after that.

  
No matter which bar or inn they entered, the reactions were always the same - after a moment of consideration, they were turned away.

  
They found themselves in an alley again. George watched as crowds of people moved past the alley opening, the streets being much busier at noon. Despite the city moving on, George and Sapnap stood still. They had made no progress, everything they tried ended in a dead-end.

  
George leaned in the head against the wall, "What do we do Sap?"

  
Sapnap sat in front of him, at the other side of the alley, "I don't know...maybe we should head to the market - get some food?" He suggested.

  
Sapnap looked tired.

  
George pushed himself up from the ground in silent agreement, There wasn't much else they could do.

  
On the other side of the city, the templars grew restless.

  
Eret had always been aware of how big the circle halls were. Now that the majority of the templars were inside the city and surrounding villages, the tower felt emptier than usual.

  
He had been a fully realized templar for a few years now, however, he had only been stationed at this particular circle for a couple of months. In these months, Eret had quickly realized that not every circle held the same standards. He had grown up in the east, had trained under the templars there and had also been stationed in the circles there for the majority of his career.

  
The circles in the east and here were very, very different.

  
Mages were handled with caution, of course, but the relationship between templars and mages back home was a lot more friendly. It was more like a teacher and their student, rather than whatever was going on in these halls.

  
It made Eret sick, seeing the sadistic glee on his co-workers when the mages shied away from them whenever they crossed paths in the corridors. To say the least, Eret hadn't been surprised when he heard of a mage escaping the tower, what had been a surprise however was to hear that he had gotten the help from a templar. Said templar being Sapnap, surprised Eret less.

  
He hadn't talked to the young man often, but when they did talk to each other, Eret had gotten the feeling that Sapnap felt quite the same as him.   
His hurried footsteps echoed through the empty halls and he pushed the door to the Knight-Commander's office open. The woman was standing with her back to him, her gaze pointed at the window instead. Eret cleared his throat, "You asked for me, knight-commander?" Finally, June turned her attention toward him. Her eyes were stern, her lips pressed in a fine line, "Yes." She turned, sitting down at her desk, "Eret, I'm sure you're aware of our escapee. Do you know who he is?" 

  
Eret shook his head.

  
"George. He joined the circle at the age of twelve, after the first few years of defiance he eventually fell in line." Eret had to hold back a scoff, he didn't want to know how these templars made him 'fall in line'. "He showed a lot of potential - he still does but he's shown to have...unforeseen circumstances. If left alone he could grow to become a danger to everyone in the city. I want you to lead a small team of templars and scour the city for him. Bring him back alive."

  
Eret pressed his lips together, his brows scrunching with confusion, "Why me? I haven't exactly been stationed here for long."

  
June laced her hands together and placed them onto her desk, "You bring a new perspective. A perspective we will need when dealing with George. I need you to be careful, he's shown immense magic potential - something that will surely not go unnoticed by the demons in the fade. He cannot become an abomination, it would make things much more complicated than they need to be."

  
"What about the templar that helped him? Sapnap, right?"

  
June's eyes narrowed and her face fell stern, "Sadly, he's the son from a highly regarded individual. A shame, that he'd throw all of that away for a mage." June spat out those words, her voice dripping with resentment, "Bring him in alive - however, he can be handled a bit...rougher than the mage."

  
Eret nodded and with a simple salute, exited the room once again. 

  
He highly doubted things would be as easy as June expected them to be.


	4. the devil's after both of us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Get rid of one threat and another appears. I'm starting to think this city's in love with crisis. Hope you're ready for it, my friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not too satisfied with this chapter, but I didn't want to let you guys wait any longer - hopefully you enjoy!

The front door of the bar remained firmly locked, shutting out anyone who might have dared to disturb their game. Light streamed in through the windows, exposing the dust that floated through the air. The light in the bar was warm and despite the summer heat outside, the air inside the building remained comfortable. Dream clutched the cards tightly in his hand, his gaze firmly planted onto Wilbur sitting across from him. He could practically feel the irritation radiating off of Wilbur. He chuckled, causing Wilbur to glance up from his cards and throw him a glare, "You're cheating." He said after a small pause.

  
Dream shrugged with one shoulder, pulling one leg up to rest it onto his chair, "You have no proof of that."

  
"You always grin like that when you cheat - I can sense it."

  
Dream snorted, "Time to reveal your cards, my good sir." Wilbur rolled his eyes but placed his cards open onto the table. The grin on Dream's lips widened and he slammed his cards down shortly after, "Boom, I win."

  
"We're not counting that one," Wilbur said without hesitation, already standing up and moving toward the bar counter. Dream leaned back in his chair, resting his arms behind his head as he watched Wilbur dig through the cabinets, "Doesn't matter anyway - I'm still in the lead with four wins." Dream reached forward, gathering the cards in his hands to form them back into a neat pile, "Don't mess up the order of the bottles too much, or Niki's gonna be mad." At Niki's mention, Wilbur stopped his movements and straightened up. He ran a hand over his high-quality coat and began to make his way back toward the table with a small frown on his lips, "It's too early for a drink anyway," he mumbled.

  
Moments like this had become routine shortly after Dream had purchased the building three years ago. At first, Dream had simply wanted to use it as a place to get some extra money. His nightly excursions were getting too risky to do them regularly and opening a bar sometimes seemed like fun.

  
He had never had a place before, where he felt safe enough to call it home. However, one thing led to another and the bar came to be first place Dream could call his home. The first time Wilbur had visited the bar, covered in a cloak far too expensive for the lower districts, the look of disdain on his face had been hilarious.   
Wilbur's dislike of the lower district faded with time. The closer Dream and him began to work together, the more each grew accustomed to their respective social class.

  
Before Wilbur could seat himself back at the table, a knock broke the comfortable silence. Both men paused, their gazes first moving to each other, before they brought their attention toward the locked front door, "You expecting someone?" Wilbur spoke, voice now lower as to not attract the attention from the person outside. They could see their shadow cast onto the window, they were shifting from foot to foot, however, neither could make out any details. Dream shook his head, speaking as he pushed himself to stand up, "No..."

  
To the people of the lower district, Dreams' bar was well known. It counted as a safe place where you could enjoy a good drink with friendly company, brawls or fights were almost unheard of in his bar. It was the only place that allowed the poorer folk to get a taste of what the rich ate daily. However, they all knew better than to come to the building when the door was closed. It meant that business was happening - to them anyway. Most days it merely meant that Dream had overslept.

  
It couldn't be Tommy or Tubbo either, they both had keys that were given to them by Dream only a few months prior.

  
The knocking came again and it was Dream's signal to move toward the door. He pulled his mask from his belt and put it on. It fit perfectly and once he was sure that it sat secure, he turned the key and pulled the door open. He was greeted by the sight of a woman. She was leaning against the wall with annoyance tugging on her lips. However, when she noticed that the door had opened, she straightened up, her face pailing as she realized just who was standing in front of her. Dream sighed, about to close the door again when the woman spoke up, "I'm Eliza. I have information from Mr.Hamsberg."

  
Those words gave Dream pause. His eyes narrowed as he studied the woman in front of him. She looked young, just a little bit older than Tommy and Tubbo, her eyes tired and clothing practical and worn down, "It's important." She added when Dream didn't speak up. He cast a glance behind him, the bar was empty. Wilbur must have gone upstairs in case it was an inspection of some kind.

  
People already had their suspicions that the two of them were working together. There was no need to feed those rumours more than they already did after all.  
"Mr.Hamsberg? The one who owns the bar down by the south gate?"

  
Eliza nodded, her lips pressed together tightly. She seemed nervous and finally Dream relented, if it was important then he supposed he had to offer up his free day. He stepped to the side and Eliza sighed softly in relief as she moved past him and into the bar. Dream closed the door behind her, this time keeping it unlocked and took a seat at the table Wilbur and him had been sitting by only a few minutes before. Eliza visibly hesitated, staying rooted on her spot by the door until Dream gestured for her to sit down, "There's no need to be so anxious." Dream said.

  
Eliza laughed awkwardly, "I mean, can you blame me? You're quite infamous...plus Mr.Hamsberg said not to make you angry...so..."

  
Under his mask, Dream couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, "Did he now?" He said slowly, leaning back into his chair, "Then he should also know that when the bar is closed, I don't appreciate visitors. So this must be very important."

  
Eliza shifted in her seat, "Yes, it is." Despite the nervous energy buzzing around her, her voice was steady, "Mr.Hamsberg fears that the templars might be investigating us again. Early this morning two men came into his bar and asked if he knew where to get passports. They obviously meant the illegal kind. Now, that by itself isn't unusual, people come by to get faked passports all the time, but it's was kind of obvious that those two were templars."

  
"How so?"

  
"One of them was carrying a templar sword and the other one was wearing what looked like circle robes under his cloak. Their disguises were rather poor like they took the first thing in their closet and ran with it."

  
Dream frowned, generally, that would be alarming but would the templars really try and get into their network now? When a mage just escaped their little prison?

  
"How can you be sure? Maybe they were simply travellers. I can't act on a couple weird travellers, Eliza." 

  
"No, see that's the thing! A few hours after we turned them away, Mr.Hamsberg got word that they went to every bar and inn located in the lower districts that were open during that time. They asked the same thing every time, but because of, you know, the obvious templar, they all turned them away."

  
Dream hummed in thought, that was indeed worrying. Though with everything that was going on, Dream wasn't quite sure if following templars around was the right idea. If they caught wind of Dream investigating them, they could discover Tubbo. Usually, Dream made decisions like this on his own, but this felt like an expectation, "Thank you for the information, Eliza." Dream said, "I'll get some sort of reward into your direction in a few days, I'll see what I can do."

  
Eliza nodded, a relieved grin forming on her lips, "Great, thank you so much, sir." With those words, the girl hurried out of the bar and disappeared into the crowd beyond the door. Dream slummed down in his seat, pushing his mask to rest at the side of his head with a sigh, "You can come out now!" Dream called into the building and moments later, Wilbur descended the stairs, his expression thoughtful, "I'm guessing you heard all that?" Dream asked when Wilbur didn't speak up.

  
"I did...it doesn't seem very logical for the templars to do an investigation now." Wilbur replied, letting himself fall into the chair next to Dreams'.

  
"I was thinking the same thing - it doesn't really make sense. Knowing templars, they would focus their entire attention on capturing the escaped mage, right?"   
Wilbur hummed softly, "What if this is the escaped mage though? The templars sealed all of the gates in the city. You don't get in or out without your papers. I highly doubt mages get their own papers, so, it would make sense that they would need new ones."

  
Dream shook his head, a frown stretching onto his features, "The girl said there were two men though, one wearing a templar sword. There's no way an escaped mage would see refugee with the same people that abused them for years." Wilbur simply sighed in reply.

  
He knew where Dream was coming from, but anything else simply didn't make sense. However, Wilbur couldn't find it in himself to argue about whoever it might have been. When it came to templars, Dream tended to follow his emotions more than his logic. Wilbur had learned to let the topic drop rather than pursue it.

  
"What do you suggest we do then? Either way, we can't ignore this." Wilbur said instead.

  
Silence fell over the two men for a moment, both of them lost in thought. Dream's gut told him to investigate, determining if these men are working with the templars or not would be easy. However, if something went wrong and they followed Dream back to the bar... He felt sick simply imagining the image of Tubbo being dragged away by the templars. But in the end, he didn't have much of a choice, did he?

  
"I say we investigate." Dream said, looking back up at Wilbur.

  
However, before the other man could reply, another voice spoke for him, "Investigate what?"

  
Dream turned to face the door, in the open door frame stood Tommy and Tubbo, both holding unmarked bags in their hands. The two moved inside and Tubbo pressed the door shut with his foot, "Couldn't help but overhear-" Tommy added with a grin, "You guys got another job?"

  
"Something like that," Dream mumbled with a sigh. He had looked forward to having a day where he could simply lounge at home instead of having to do anything productive, "What did you guys buy?" Dream added, his gaze falling onto the two bags the teens were holding as they placed them onto the bar counter with a small thud.

  
Tubbo turned to them with a grin, excitement visible in his face, "Books! Magic books! I thought they might help with...you know." His smile faltered slightly toward the end of his words. Dream didn't even have to look at Wilbur to know the worry that would flash on his face at the mention of magic books. It didn't even take a minute for him to stand up and move toward the bags on the counter, "Magic books? No one saw you buy them, did they?"

  
Before Tubbo could reply, Tommy spoke up, snatching the bag Wilbur was looking at from his hands, "No one saw us. We aren't idiots Wilbur."

  
"Where did you even get them?" Dream jumped into the conversation, standing up to look at the books as well. He opened up the bag that was left on the counter and glanced inside. There were two books inside, one of them in a language that he couldn't read. The other one was titled, 'The Basics of Healing Magic'. They were neatly decorated and looked expensive, "How much did you guys pay for this?" Dream added on, bringing his attention back to the people in the room.

  
At Dream's questions, Tubbo's smile grew more confident, "Remember the magic energy I felt yesterday during the western market? It turned out it was an actual shop - the owner is a former circle mage from the east and I bought these books from him. He gave me a discount." Dream hummed in acknowledgement, "As long as no one noticed you, I don't see an issue." He said, glancing at Wilbur by his side.

  
Wilbur pressed his lips together, worry still clear on his features, "If you have to buy something magical, at least do it at night Tubbo." He finally spoke after a short moment of silence. With another bright smile, Tubbo nodded.

  
"This all fine and dandy, but what were you guys talking about before we came in?" Tommy interrupted, his eyes sparkling with interest. Tubbo fell silent as well, seemingly just as interested in their conversation topic as his friend was. Wilbur heaved a sigh and reluctantly began to explain, "Apparently a few templars are snooping around - Dream and I are going to investigate."

  
Immediately, Tommy's eyes brightened, "Oh, can I come along? I'd love to stick it to a few templars." The teen grinned. Wilbur sighed with exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose, "We are not going to fight any templars, Tommy. We're only going to talk to them." 

  
"Whatever - can I come along or not?"

  
Wilbur stayed silent for a moment, his eyes narrowed as he glanced toward Dream. The blond shrugged, "Why don't we just bring both of them along?" Dream suggested, gesturing toward Tubbo and Tommy, "It's better than to have them sitting around in their rooms the whole day." 

  
"Hey!" Came the protest from both teens, causing Dream to chuckle.

  
The discussion didn't last much longer and soon enough, the four of them headed out of the bar and onto the busy streets. The sun was shining down onto the street and dust was thrown into the air with every step. "I'll head onto the rooftops - I'll have an easier time searching from up there." Dream spoke, nodding his head toward the alleyway next to the bar.

  
Wilbur and Tommy hummed in agreement, however, just as Dream was about to move into the alley, Tubbo's voice stopped him, "Wait, Dream?" The blond turned back to face the teen. Tubbo's eyes shone with nervousness. He had a sinking feeling that he knew exactly why, "You don't mind if I tag along with you, right? On the roof?"

  
Dream glanced toward the roof, "You can climb them?"

  
"I mean, I can try - can't be that hard, right?" Tubbo chuckled nervously and Dream didn't have the heart to reject him. So, after parting ways with Tommy and Wilbur, the two of them headed into the alley. The two of them stopped by a drainpipe - it looked shaky as if it was just bearly clinging to the wall behind it. Dream moved with confidence, wrapping his hands around it as he began to pull himself up. The roof was on the lower side, the climb was bearly a few seconds long - a perfect entryway to the rooftops of the lower district. When Dream's feet finally connected safely with the roof, he leaned back over the edge, watching as Tubbo copied his movements to the best of his abilities. 

  
Tubbo managed to reach the roof with little difficulty and when Dream held his hand out to help him up, the teen gladly took his offer, "Good job!" Dream said with a grin, clasping Tubbo onto his back when both of them were secure on the roof. Tubbo grinned in reply, and the two of them began to make their way over the roofs.   
While they moved and jumped between buildings, Dream kept his gaze on the street bellow - trying to spot anyone that could fit Eliza's description. The streets were devoid of templars - non were patrolling the streets or checking the houses, it made Dream uneasy. It was so different from their usual behaviour that he didn't quite know what to think. He would have expected the templars to scour the entire city for their lost mage. But it seemed like the only thing they did to prevent their escape was to secure the city gates.

  
It contradicted everything Dream had known the templars to be. They were planning something, he just wasn't sure what.   
Dream didn't seem to be the only one who had noticed the absence of the templars. Tubbo seemed as restless as Dream felt. Dream had negative experiences with templars before, but he'd never felt threatened by them. He couldn't imagine how Tubbo must feel with the constant risk of being caught and dragged away.

  
How George must have felt, all those years ago.

  
"Tubbo, how's your training holding up?" Dream asked, finally breaking the silence between them. He wanted to try and get Tubbo's mind off of the templars at least a little bit.

  
"Oh," Tubbo said, sounding a bit distracted before he brought his attention to Dream, "It's...I don't know, I'm not really making any progress. I feel like it's getting worse too, the-the power behind it all, you know?" Tubbo clenched his first together, a small breath falling from his lips, "It's...er...hard to explain to someone who doesn't have magic. It's like there's this constant scratching beneath your skin - like something wants to get out."

  
Dream frowned, his eyes soft as he glanced down at the teen next to him, "Sounds awful. Maybe the books that you brought can help though - I can help you out too. If you want."

  
A small smile formed on the youngers lips, "Thanks. I don't know, it's not like it's all bad. Sometimes, when I openly use my magic, it feels great. Warm, like a warm bath after being cold the entire day. Most of the time it's hard to keep it under control...it was easier when I was younger." Tubbo admitted, his voice low.

  
Dream was just about to reply, however, stopped himself when he spotted something out of the corner of his eye. Down on the streets of the market place stood two figures, one had a sword hanging from his side, while the other was almost entirely covered by a brown cloak. His eyes flew across the surrounding area and soon enough he spotted Wilbur and Tommy, standing just a few feet away from the men - they had seen them too.

  
"Do you think that's them?" Tubbo asked, moving to glance over the roofs and onto the street as well. Dream hummed, "I think so - let's see where they go." Dream kept his gaze firmly planted on the two people as they moved through the crowds of the market place. Jumping from roof to roof and making sure Tubbo was able to follow him made things a bit complicated, but as long as he didn't lose track of them, Dream knew it would be fine.

  
From this high up it was hard to make out any details, but the templar sword on one of them shone brightly in the summer sun - it had to be the men Eliza was talking about.

  
They didn't seem too bothered with their surroundings. They moved slow, looking at the different food stalls the market had to offer. Despite the number of objects sold here, the men only seemed to buy long-lasting food - dried meat and bread. Odd.

  
Suddenly, the two men turned into a side alley, "Tubbo, let's move - we'll corner them there." Dream spoke, sending a last glance toward the teen before moving closer to the alley from above. Tommy and Wilbur seemed to have had the same idea because they soon followed into the men's footsteps.

  
As soon as the alley came into view, Dream pulled his mask down his face, "Once they reach the end of the alley, we jump down. You okay with that?" Dream asked, voice low as he watched the men moved further into the alley. Their steps were quicker than before, a stark contrast to their previously relaxed demeanour. They definitely noticed they were being followed.

  
The two men came to a stop at the end of the alley, cornered between boxes, walls and Wilbur advancing toward them with Tommy. Finally, Dream jumped down, landing gracefully a few feet in front of his friends. A couple seconds later, Tubbo joined them, landing with a small thud next to Tommy. Dream was just about to speak, throw out one of his insulting snides to open the conversation, when both men turned around and suddenly, Dream felt like he was drowning.

  
His face was longer, his eyes had lost some of their shine but he still looked the same in so many ways. He still had faint laughing lines and his eyes were still the same dark shade they had been all those years ago. He was shorter than Dream now, a contrast to how he had always been just a tad taller than Dream in their youth.

  
George. George was alive. George was standing right in front of him.

  
His eyes were narrowed, a fury that had never before been directed at Dream shone in his dark eyes as he turned to face them. His hood fell down from his head with the speed that he turned. Dream noted with amusement that his hairstyle looked just how Dream remembered, if a bit longer.

  
He felt unsteady like his mind and body weren't his own as he saw George speak. However, none of his words reached Dream, the only thing that he was able to hear was his heartbeat ringing in his ears. After ten years, George was really there, looking furious and oh so beautiful....wait, what?

"George..." Dream breathed out before he could stop himself. Immediately the fury in George's eyes morphed into panic, "How do you know my name?" He hissed and Dream almost cried at the sound of his voice. His accent was still there - lighter than it used to be, his voice was deeper, but there was something achingly familiar about it.

  
Dream could feel the questioning glances from his allies behind him, but right now, he couldn't care less.

  
The man next to George raised his sword. It was only then that Dream fully registered him. The weapon glimmered in the sun, it was cared for but obviously never used in real combat - it looked nearly untouched. It was a Templar sword. That thought alone brought a cold chill through Dream, but George was more important now, "Wait, hold on -" 

  
George frowned in confusion. Dream didn't give himself time to reconsider when he reached up. His hands almost touched his mask when a hand on his shoulder stopped his movements. "What the fuck has gotten into you?" Wilbur hissed, voice low so that it was only heard by the two of them. Dream sent him a glare and instead of answering, harshly shrugged off his hand. Not wanting to give Wilbur another chance to stop him, Dream grasped his mask and removed it from his face, "It's me." George froze, an emotion Dream couldn't decipher replacing the panic from before. George stood still, his eyes ranking over Dream's features. Normally, Dream would shy away - never having been a fan of being observed by people, but not this time.

  
Never with George.

  
The silence in the alley was tense and Dream was sure that the confusion on the stranger's face was mirrored on his friends as well - though Dream couldn't bring himself to care. Not when George smiled, a smile so bright that Dream felt his heart hurt. And just like that, the tension bled from George's shoulders, he took a step forward, "Oh my god, Clay?" His was voice shaking, but the smile on his lips was honest.

  
And god that name.

  
A name Dream so rarely heard that it felt more like the name of a passing stranger than his own. But George made it feel so familiar, so warm that he wanted to hear it over and over again, "Yeah," Dream said, a small, shaky laugh falling past his lips, "It's me."

  
Dream couldn't describe the feeling of relief that coursed through his veins when recognition filled his gaze. Both of them moved forward, Dream's hands found his shoulders and after a split second of hesitance, Dream pulled both of them into a tight gripped hug. He felt George bury his head into the crook of his neck as he wrapped his arms around Dream's upper body - his grip just as tight as Dream's was.

  
It felt like something slotted into place when they found each other in the embrace. For ten years Dream had no idea how George was doing, but seeing that he was alright, settled unrest he hadn't even been aware of. Dream would have given everything to stay in that moment, but all too soon, they had to pull away. They grinned at each other but, Wilbur clearing his throat broke them out of their moment.

They pulled their hands away, and Dream ignored the urge to reach out again.

"Now, clearly this is a heartfelt moment and all but...what the fuck is going on? Who is this?" Wilbur spoke, gesturing toward George with a furrowed brow.

  
Before either of them could reply, the templar that George seemed to be travelling with stepped forward. His hand wrapped around George's wrist and Dream couldn't help but frown at the gesture. George didn't seem to be bothered by his touch and easily let himself be tugged back a few steps. He seemed a bit distracted, his eyes lingering on Dream before he glanced at his companion. The templar spoke in a low voice, though he was easily heard in the silence of the alley, "What the hell, George?" He hissed.

  
Dream couldn't help the frown that stretched over his features as he studied the man next to George. George's body language was relaxed, his should slack and his breathing was calm. Why he would be so relaxed around a templar of all things, Dream couldn't fathom. Though that was a conversation for when they weren't standing out on the open.

  
"Look," Dream began - everyone's attention snapping to him, "How about we deal with this in a safer location? George and I know each other, that should be enough for now. I have a place where we can talk." 

  
George began to nod, taking a step forward but the templars hand on his wrist stopped him again, "George, hold on," He cast a wary glance toward Dream, "I don't think this is a good idea." The blond almost laughed, as if Dream was the one George had to be cautious around. George shook his head, his smile turning soft, "It's fine. We can trust him." The templar looked reluctant, but let go of George regardless. 

  
George moved forward and as Dream began to lead them back toward the bar, the blond caught Wilbur's gaze. His eyes were narrowed, the silent threat of an incoming conversation looming over the two of them. Dream shook his head, now was not the time for explanations - at least not to Wilbur.

  
He fell into step next to George, a smile on the brunette's lips as he held a silent conversation with the templar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also published another dnf fic if you want to check it out! I'm trying something a bit different there!
> 
> Fic is linked [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27329335/chapters/66772159) if you want to check it out!


	5. you can't choose what stays and what fades away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He hurts, an old pain from before, when everything sang the same. You're real, and it means everyone could be real. It changes everything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all the support so far!
> 
> The feedback and everything has been more positive than I anticipiated! Thank you so much and enjoy!

The summer heat in the air was pleasantly warm as Sapnap and George made their way toward the market place. Both were silent, neither having the energy to keep up a conversation after spending the whole morning following a hopeless endeavour. No matter where they went, who they asked, they were always turned away. Left to fend for themselves on the streets of the city they were trapped in.

  
George felt strangely empty - he was beginning to doubt that they'll ever make it out of the city alive. Realistically, he knew they were going to be back in the circle by the end of the week - if they could even last that long.

  
Sapnap bumped against his shoulder, breaking George out of his thoughts momentarily. The younger sent him a smile, a faint one but it was there. George couldn't find it in himself to smile back.

  
The only templars they had seen today were the ones guarding the south gate. The fact that they seemed to have abandoned their patrols entirely unsettled George deeply.

  
Back in the circle, the templars had been everywhere. In every classroom, in every hallway, even inside the dining hall. Their eyes and ears everywhere, their presence suffocating - for years George felt like he was drowning. He couldn't return to that. He would rather die than return to them, "After we get some food, what do you suppose we do?" George asked, finally breaking the silence that had formed between the two men.

  
Sapnap sighed, running a hand over his face before he replied, "I don't know. What do you suppose we do George?" His voice had a bit of heat behind it. A heat that back in the circle, would have pushed George and Sapnap down an hour-long argument. Though, for the most part, he just sounded tired. George didn't have enough will to get into an argument. "Let's just get some food," George said instead, his voice low, "We'll think clearer with some food in our stomachs - it's almost noon. We haven't eaten anything yet."

  
The market place was packed with people. Back when George was a child, the stands here were few - even fewer visiting the market. It was a perfect playground for Clay and him, chasing each other through the narrow spaces between the stands was something they had loved to do. Now though, masses filled the streets and conversation floated all around him. The economy has evidently gotten much better. Despite the mass of people, George could see the nervousness lingering on everyone's faces. It seemed people haven't forgotten about the escaped mage.

  
George tugged the cloak closer to his body.

  
He followed Sapnap through the stands, his eyes scanning the different things they had to offer. He glanced back up, his eyes falling on two people standing a couple streets down the market. They were almost completely hidden behind the market-stands, though something had pulled George's gaze right to them. It was a man and a teenage boy. They both looked out of place, their clothing expensive and clearly in good condition. They looked like people who belonged into the higher districts or closer to it anyway. They didn't look like the kind of people who needed to head to the markets so deep in the lower district.

  
It took George a few seconds to realize it, but they were both looking right at him. Their eyes were narrowed, but that was all George could take in before panic jumped up his throat.

  
George turned, catching sight of Sapnap just as he brought two loaves of bread from the stand next to them. He moved forward, his hand finding the younger's wrist to get his attention, "Sapnap." He hissed, his gaze falling back to the men George had spotted earlier.

  
Sapnap brought his attention to George, his brow furrowed, "What?" George swallowed, panic slowly rising in his chest, "I think someone recognized us." Sapnap's gaze moved from George to behind him, his eyes widening for just a fraction and that was all the confirmation George needed.

  
Sapnap glanced back down, threw a quick smile toward the shop owner and the two of them moved on, "Let's see if they follow us. There's no need to panic - not yet." George could tell Sapnap was trying his hardest to remain calm, but he could hear the alarm in the other's voice.

  
A sudden thought shook George to his core.

  
He hadn't even considered it - he had no idea how this could have escaped his mind for so long but there was no guarantee the templars would wear their armour while searching for them.

  
Without their armour, they would be impossible to spot at first glance and neither George nor Sapnap knew every templar by sight. George glanced behind him, they were still there. Panic once again bubbled in his chest and he felt magic rush through his veins, urging him to do something, to protect Sapnap and himself. He took a deep breath, Sapnap's words ringing through his ears. There was no need to panic just yet and even if something happened - they wouldn't go down without a fight.   
The brunette tried to ignore the burning feeling of being watched as they moved through the stands. They stopped at a couple more stands to get other supplies, cheese, dried meat and every single time, George took a glance behind them.

  
Every single time they were still there, following them, watching them.

  
"George," Sapnap suddenly said, his voice low as they continued walking through the market, "There's an alley there - if they follow us in there, we...get ready to fight I guess."

  
George huffed, "Great plan." 

  
"Well, I don't see you coming up with something." He hissed, his stress and worry growing more obvious now. George sighed, sudden exhaustion washing over him, "I'm sorry, sorry. I'm just...you're right. We're less likely to get spotted there if we do have to fight." George urged him, finally leading the two of them toward the small alleyway Sapnap had spotted. They could probably handle a man and a teenage boy without any weapons...right?

  
God, George was already so tired of this.

  
He knew it wouldn't be easy, escaping the circle was nearly impossible unless you got far away from the major cities. George just hadn't realized how hard this was going to be.

  
The alleyway was small, the end blocked by boxes. They were trapped, no matter what these men wanted, George and Sapnap had no other choice but to confront them. He let out a shaking breath, anxiety once again bubbling in his chest as he heard the footsteps advancing from behind them. However, two thuds signalled other people joining them from somewhere above. Suddenly, the anxiety and panic morphed into anger.

  
What gave them the right to keep pursuing him like this? Who gave them the right to treat him like this? 

  
He was so tired of it all. 

  
George turned to face the people behind him, anger now burning in his chest rather than panic. He just wanted to be free. Why was that always so much to ask?  
Four people stood behind them now, the boy and man from before were still there - their faces pulled into a scowl. Next to the teen stood another boy, looking to be around the same age. His lips were pressed together, a small, expensive-looking cape hanging from his shoulders. In front of them, stood someone familiar. 

  
Dream.

  
The same man who's wanted poster he had seen yesterday. His mask covered his face, leaving it up to one's own imagination just what the man was feeling. He was tall, the hood of the hoodie he was wearing covering his hair, but a few blond strands peeked out from underneath the fabric. George clenched his fists and when no one spoke, he hissed out, "What the fuck do you want?" It seemed his words fell onto deaf ears. The allies behind Dream stood still, casting worried and confused glanced toward their leader. Then, he spoke, his voice quiet but to George, it was clear as day.

  
His name...how the fuck did he know his name?

  
The fury inside George snapped back to panic and while there was something familiar about that voice, George's mind could focus only on the fact that he was in danger, "How do you know my name?" He hissed out, taking a small step backwards. Sapnap reacted with him, raising his sword and staring at the people in front of them with narrowed eyes. Dream moved but to George's surprise, he didn't move to attack, "Wait, hold on-" He said, before raising his hands toward his mask. George threw a glance toward Sapnap, who seemed to be just as confused and wary as George felt.

  
George had never seen this man before. The simple fact that this masked criminal wanted to reveal his face to him, made George believe that their chances of getting out of here alive were slowly dwindling. However, when one of his allies stepped forward and gripped his shoulder tightly, George began to doubt that this was some kind of before-murder-torture. Dream shrugged off the man's hand and without pause pulled the mask from his face.

  
"It's me." He said and suddenly the familiar feeling George had gotten before made so much sense.

  
Clay.

  
George thought he'd never see him again. Clay is Dream, a person wanted by the entire city - though that was the least of George's thoughts.

  
His face was covered in freckles, they were more faded than when they were kids, but they were still there, looking like a night sky sprinkled onto his features. George couldn't stop his eyes from taking him in, his cheeks covered with freckles, his eyes, looking as warm and bright as they always had. There was a thin scar on his jaw, moving down his neck and disappearing under his hoodie.

  
Clay was right there, the person he thought he'd never see again was right there, in the flesh. George couldn't help the smile that formed on his lips, any ounce of danger or fear he had felt throughout the entire day melting away with that realization, "Oh my god, Clay?" The brunette took a step forward as he spoke, ignoring the worried mumbled coming from Sapnap next to him.

  
"Yeah," He laughed. George had always loved his laugh, had done anything as a child just to hear it. It was only then that he realized just how much he had missed that sound, how much he wanted to hear it again, "It's me."

  
They both moved forward and when Clay hugged him, George couldn't help but wrap his arms around him as well. The brunette buried his head into the crook of his neck. His touch was unfamiliar. He was taller now, his body held muscle from whatever he did to survive but as the scent of him filled his senses, George felt himself relaxing. That was familiar, he still smelt faintly of the ocean and leather - though there was something different now, pine or something of that kind.

  
For the first time in years, George felt the worry and tension leave his body entirely. He felt safe here in Clay's arms, even after such a long time had passed. Sadly though, all moments came to an end and eventually the two of them had to pull away. Immediately, George missed his touch, missed the warmth that filled his chest when they held each other.

  
It was nothing compared to the dread that George had felt during the dream last night, here his touch was warm instead of the cold dread that came from the child George had dreamt of.

  
They grinned. George could feel affection bloom in his chest at the sight, he looked just like the boy from all those years ago. They were broken out of their little world when an unfamiliar voice spoke up, "Now, clearly this is a heartfelt moment and all but...what the fuck is going on? Who is this?" The man gestured toward George with a furrowed brow, the frustration and confusion clear in his gaze. Though before he could reply, George felt a hand wrap around his wrist. He let himself be pulled back by Sapnap, though he couldn't help but linger on Clay, a small fear blooming in his chest that as soon as he glanced away, Clay would be gone.

  
"What the hell, George?" Sapnap hissed, though George could tell that the heat in his voice stemmed from worry. Just like George, Sapnap had recognized the man in the mask - just differently. To Sapnap he was simply a criminal, someone they needed to avoid with the circle possibly putting a bounty on their heads.

  
"Look," Clay interrupted, "How about we deal with this in a more relaxed location? George and I know each other, that should be enough for now. I have a place where we can talk." George smiled once again, it was a small thing, opening up the opportunity to talk but it felt strangely reassuring. To know that Clay wanted to talk to him, probably set the record straight about what happened. He was just about to agree, eager to get Clay alone so that they could talk in peace - however, Sapnap once again stopped him, "George, hold on, I don't think this is a good idea." The worry and caution in his eyes were obvious. George couldn't help the fond smile that formed on his lips.

  
As much as they argued when they weren't in the middle of a life-threatening situation, Sapnap was always the first to worry about him, "It's fine. We can trust him." Sapnap studied him for a moment, eyes unsure but eventually, he finally relented and allowed George to step forward.

  
The walk to Clay's place was silent, no one spoke up to fill the silence with conversation. The two teens looked uneasy, casting wary glances at both Sapnap and George, while the other man kept his gaze firmly to the front. Sapnap was quiet as well, though George could tell that he was simply waiting for a moment alone to demand some answers from the mage. Usually, George would feel bad, asking Sapnap to trust him so blindly when their situation was anything but secure - however, everything was overshadowed by the fact that Clay was right there. Walking next to him as if ten years hadn't passed.

  
Eventually, Clay came to a stop in front of a brick building, it seemed to be in better condition than most of the houses around and, judging by the sign at the front, housed a bar. Without hesitation, Clay pushed the door open and moved inside, George following with a bit more hesitance. The inside was surprisingly devoid of any patrons, the only person inside was a woman standing behind the counter. She looked up from whatever she was doing, "Hey guys!" She said with a grin, a grin that quickly faltered when she spotted George and Sapnap, "...new friends?"

  
"I don't know, are they Dream?" The other man asked, moving to stand by the bar as he leaned against the wood with crossed arms.

  
"Of course he is," Clay said, rolling his eyes. He brought his gaze toward George, a smile once again forming on his lips, "This is George. We grew up together, we just...haven't seen each other in a long time. George," Clay said, gesturing toward the people the brunette assumed were his friends, "This is Wilbur, the two boys are Tommy and Tubbo and that's Niki." The faces from his friends didn't change, however, the woman - Niki, stepped away from behind the bar counter. She wiped her hands off on the apron she was wearing and smiled, "It's a pleasure to meet you two then." Despite her kind words, there was a dangerous glint in her eyes.

  
It seemed she wasn't as harmless as she first looked.

  
George shifted, his gaze moving toward Sapnap who was still studying Clay with hardened eyes, "Right well, I'm George. This is Sapnap...we, well-"

  
George's words were interrupted by Wilbur's harsh voice, "Cut the bullshit. Are you working for the templars? One of you is, that's for sure." He said, nodding toward Sapnap's direction.

  
The ex-templar huffed, "Fuck no." Wilbur to raised his eyebrow and he glanced toward George. The brunette shifted under his gaze but with a comforting nod from Clay, George spoke up as well, "We're no friends of the templars. I'm...I'm a former circle mage - Sapnap helped me escape. We were just trying to get out of the city."

  
"You're a circle mage?" Another unfamiliar voice said and George looked behind Wilbur, to the two teen boys. The one Clay had introduced as Tubbo had spoken, his eyes a mix out of caution and curiosity, "Yes." George confirmed with a careful nod. The teen opened his mouth to speak again, however, Dream's voice interrupted him before he could, "Look, I know you all have questions and it's all very confusing and exciting. But I really need some alone time with George - after that, I promise we'll explain everything in detail." His words hang in the air before the people gathered around them nodded.

  
George took this time to finally face Sapnap, his brow was furrowed and his gaze kept moving from Clay to Wilbur. George placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze, "It'll be fine Sap. Remember those few memories I told you about? Clay was in all of them - we can trust him." Sapnap let out a sigh and finally, his shoulders relaxed, "Fine. If you aren't back in 30 minutes though, I'll crash your little party." George huffed with amusement. He patted Sapnap's shoulder one last time, before following Clay upstairs.

  
The hallway upstairs looked much more homely than the bar. Books were strewn about the hallway, hand-drawn pictures hung on the wall, "Please don't pay attention to how dirty it is." Clay said as they stopped in front of the door closest to the stairs, "Wasn't expecting company." The blond pushed the door open. The room was big, walls covered with maps, the floor had a few clothes strewn around it but for the most part, it simply looked lived in. There was an unmade bed in the right corner and in the middle of the room stood two armchairs. Clay let George step inside first and they both moved toward two comfortable looking armchairs.

  
In the muted light of the room, with a fond smile on his lips, Clay looked incredibly gentle. George was hyper-aware of every movement that he did. His hands were laced together, he tapped his foot against the floor, he shifted in his seat to get more comfortable, "What are you looking at?" Clay asked, snapping George out of his thoughts. He leaned back in his chair, his cheeks growing hot, "W-What?" George cleared his throat, "Nothing." Clay laughed, his eyes lingering on George for a moment before he broke their gaze.

  
"By what name do you go by?" George asked after a moment, his voice careful.

Clay frowned, growing confused, "What do you mean?"

  
"Well...just yesterday I saw a wanted poster for you. Dream." George said the name slowly as if trying it out for the first time, "Even your friends called you Dream. But well...I only know you as Clay - after so long, I don't know if you still want me to call you that."

  
Clay hesitated, his expression growing unsure. George couldn't read him, he could only guess what was going on in that mind of his. George would do whatever Clay wanted to of course - but having to bury the name Clay felt strangely final.

  
Clay looked up, his eyes determent when he spoke again, "Clay. I...I want you to use Clay." 

  
George smiled, a small sense of relief forming in his chest, "Alright, good."

  
It was then that George realized just how easy everything was when you're a child. Back then, Clay and him could spend hours talking about nothing. They never mentioned how skinny Clay used to be, or how mattered his hair sometimes was. If he was honest, George had never even noticed, too occupied with the childish happiness Clay had given him.

  
Right now, as the silence settled over them, George found himself at a loss for what to say. Ten years. It's been ten years since George had last seen Clay when they had last talked. They were children back then and George knew that it was impossible to continue where they left off. They had both changed too much. George saw it in the way that Clay held himself - relaxed and confident. A big difference to how skittish Clay had always been around other people. Back when he had known him.  
"George..." Clay suddenly said, his face falling, "I...How are you?" His voice was small, almost quiet. He looked so much more like the boy George knew then, "The tower... I went to the circle every day. Tried to get as close as possible. I wanted to find a way to get to you for...so long." Clay chuckled humourlessly, shaking his head, "It never worked, no matter how hard I tried."

  
Something tight curled itself around Georges' heart. An emotion he couldn't place filling his chest as he reached forward and placed a hand onto Clay's knee, "I thought about you so often. You were the only thing that kept me going all these years. It was...difficult. " That was all George said. The wound the circle left still felt too raw, too deep, to talk about it so openly, "I had no idea you were still trying to find me. I honestly expected you to forget me." George laughed awkwardly.

  
Clay smiled, his hand finding George's, "Never." George grinned, the warmth in his chest growing stronger, "But enough about me-" George started, leaning back again and removing his hand from Clay's, "Dream, huh? Wanted alive? What did you get up in the years I was gone?"

  
Gone. As if he had simply been on vacation.

  
They toed a fine line between awkward and serious. Ten years is enough time to make someone into a completely different person after all. Still, it's not like this changed anything - George still needed to get out of the city together with Sapnap. In a way, this was simply an opportunity to get out of the city safer - a welcomed distraction.

  
That's what George wanted to tell himself anyway.

  
Dream sucked in a deep breath, "God...I don't know, just doing what I need to do really." He shrugged, his grin seeming a bit more timid than usual, "I have friends that I work with and we don't have to worry about the money. It's good, life is good." Clay added, his voice filled with fondness.

  
"Oh!" George exclaimed, a thought forming in his mind. He sat up straight and scooted forward, a bit closer to Clay."Remember how uncontrolled my magic used to be? You've got to give it to the circle - their education is top-notch. I've gotten much better - you want to see what I can do?"

  
"Take the floor, George."

  
With an ease that he never had before, George flattened his palm - letting fire spring to life. It began to move, turning into small fire inferno in the palm of his hand. When George looked back up again, Clay wasn't looking at his palm - instead, his gaze was planted on George's face. His eyes were fond and filled to the brim with adoration.

  
"I missed you." He said suddenly, sounding a bit breathless - as if it was a realization he just came to.

  
"I missed you too," George replied, a soft smile finding itself on his lips as he dismissed the magic from his palm.

  
Wordlessly, they both moved forward again, finding each other in another embrace. George felt just as secure as he did the first time. This time, without their friends waiting for explanations, George let himself sink fully into the feeling. Clay's hair tickled his nose every time he breathed, but George didn't mind, in fact, everything about Clay made George want to hold on and never let go. He supposed that's what happened when you missed someone for ten years. However, the calm atmosphere was broken when suddenly, Clay's shoulder's started shacking - almost as if he were laughing.

  
"Clay?" George asked, pulling away slightly so that only his hands were resting on his shoulders. He watched with a worried frown as tears began to flow from Clay's eyes, "What's wrong?"

  
Clay laughed wetly, "S-Sorry, I just...I think it's just sinking in that you're back. You're actually here, alive and well." He spoke through a small sob, pulling his hands to wipe against his oncoming tears. Though as quickly as his hands had left him, Clay's hands found him again, grasping his hands tightly, "It was difficult without you, your...your parents didn't cope well either." His voice was steady once again and at the mention of his parents, George could feel his heart drop, "What...What happened to them?" He asked slowly.

  
Clay took a steadying breath, his hands still holding George's as he glanced to the side, "They left the city a year after you got taken. They...your father tried to stay strong, but every day that passed more creaks formed in both of them. They loved you a lot, but I think you knew that already."

  
George sighed, a shaky exhale that allowed for a cold feeling to settle inside of him. George had expected something like this, but that didn't mean that it didn't hurt any less - to hear it said out loud that his parents were really gone, "Do you know where they went?"

  
Clay shook his head, his expression sober, "I only know that they went west. I'm sorry." 

  
George shook his head, squeezing Clay's hand gently as he spoke, "No, I already expected something like that. I'm just glad that I found you again, I...do you think you could help? Help me and Sapnap leave the city?"

  
At the templars mention, Clay frowned, "You're really going to escape with him? A templar? Are you sure you can trust him?" George sighed, rolling his eyes with only mild annoyance, "Clay. He helped me get out of the circle, he was just as trapped as I was-"

  
"Getting dragged into the circle by force and being born into it aren't exactly comparable."

  
"I meant figuratively. My point is - I trust Sapnap with my life. He's my best friend and the person who gave me enough strength to survive the circle for as long as I did. I asked him to trust me with you, and you need to do the same. He's not a danger."

  
Clay opened his mouth as if to complain, however, as he studied George's face, his expression fell soft and with a sigh, he nodded, "Fine. I won't trust him but I trust you. I'll do what I can to help." Another wave of relief washed over George, "Thank you." He said sincerely.

  
"I won't be able to help you immediately, smuggling isn't exactly my speciality - but for as long as it takes, you and Sapnap can stay here." Clay added with a small smile, though he spoke Sapnap's name with a bit reluctance, "You'll be safe here - the templars won't be able to touch you here." Despite the warmth in Clay's voice, his eyes held a certain type of hesitance, though George had a feeling it wasn't directed toward him.

  
Things still felt unsure with Clay, the years had formed a cliff between them neither could quite ignore. But George had a feeling they'd catch up to each other soon enough. He could tell, even if only through the security Clay gave him.

  
The silence was broken by a knock, Sapnap's voice coming muffled through the door, "You still alive in there, George?" The brunette heard Clay scoff, but George could only laugh softly. He patted Clay's shoulder before removing himself from his friend's touch, heading toward the door instead. He pulled it open and was greeted by the templar. His face pulled into an annoyed frown - but surprisingly, he looked much more at ease than he had in days, "I doubt half an hour already passed?"

  
"Well, while you were up here with your childhood sweetheart-" George spluttered, though, Sapnap simply ignored it, continuing on without pause, "I was stuck down there with the local crazy people."

  
"Excuse me?" Clay's voice came from behind him as he joined George by the door.

  
"Your friends are weird, that's all I'm saying, Clay." Sapnap simply crossed his arms over his chest, a challenging look in his eyes. A look Clay willingly returned, "Sorry but that's Dream to you."

  
"Oh, so George can call you Clay and I can't?"

  
Clay didn't even hesitate with his answer, "Yes." The two stared at each other, the tension in the air growing, "Right." George said, clearing his throat awkwardly, "How about we head back to the others? Share what he discussed?"

  
Sapnap's eyes studied Clay for a while longer, his eyes narrowed before he ended up breaking the gaze, "Whatever." He mumbled, stepping aside to let the two of them pass. Clay moved out of the room first, carefully brushing past George as he did. Together, the three of them headed back down into the bar.

  
For the first time that day, George felt hope blossom in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully, the beginning wasn't too repetitive - but I wanted to show George's perspective of their reunion :)


	6. in your place there were a thousand other faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Selfish, I suposse, not to want to spend your entire life screaming on the inside"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, the next chapter should hopefully be out sooner! 
> 
> This chapter (and the future chapters of this work) has been betaed by [TheLittleStar_tm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleStar_tm/pseuds/TheLittleStar_tm) ! She's been a gigantic help and has fics of her own, so be sure to check her out! 
> 
> Enjoy and let me know what you think!

The dread in Sapnap's stomach sunk deeper with each step that George took up those stairs. Dream hadn't attacked, his allies were on guard but not entirely threatening, George had asked him to trust him with this but...it didn't feel right. A feeling of uneasiness formed as he watched George follow Dream up the stairs and into the darkness of the upper floor.

Dream was armed to the teeth, a sword hung on his back, there were multiple knives strapped to his boots and Sapnap could see the faint outline of a dagger under his hoodie. The floorboards creaked under George's feet, but where Dream moved they stayed silent. Each step felt calculated, confident, as if Dream had expected today to play out exactly like it did. A person forged on the brutal streets of reality was just as dangerous as someone who spent their youth learning from the best teachers in warmly lit training rooms.

This man was dangerous and he was about to be completely alone with George.

Sapnap ignored the urge to follow as the two disappeared behind the turning corner of the stairs and instead brought his attention to the allies Dream had left behind.

Their gazes were all focused on him, narrowed eyes staring him down as silence filled the room. He ignored the spike of nervousness in his chest and stood tall, meeting the eyes of Wilbur - who's gaze held true furiosity. Sapnap was not going to let himself be intimidated by children and criminals.

He recognized Wilbur - everyone in the city knew who he was even by just his name. A young man who rose through the business ranks with lightning speed. Years ago there was only admiration for him, now everyone spoke his name with a hint of fear. Sapnap didn’t understand why. In the end, the only powerful thing about him were his allies and connections.

Then again, maybe that was exactly why he was dangerous.

"What exactly is your plan here?" Wilbur was the first to speak, his eyes not breaking away from Sapnap.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

A small, mocking laugh fell past Wilbur's lips, "Really? You expect me to believe that you - a templar - willingly helped a mage escape the circle?"

Sapnap's eyes narrowed, annoyance forming in his gut at the obvious dismissal in Wilbur's voice. He doubted that anything that he said would change whatever was running through the man's mind, "Yes. I've known George for years - we've both been in the circle for a long time. We simply want to leave, I don't get what's so hard to understand here."

Wilbur was silent for a moment, "I hope you realize the risk we're taking here. The only reason why you're still standing here is because of Dream. If it were up to me you would be in the clutches of the guards already. There's more at stake here than whatever you and your little friend have going on."

Wilbur's words silenced, allowing Sapnaps dark eyes to survey the people standing behind the man. Niki's and Tommy's eyes mimicked similar fury and distrust, however, unlike the rest, the one who seemed to go by the name Tubbo - sported a glistening look of fear in his. Sapnap's stomach sank, realization melting away the annoyance. The way the boy stiffened when Sapnap's gaze fell onto him confirmed what he had been thinking. "Whatever," He finally mumbled, his stance faltering, "I don't actually care enough to cause any trouble here-" Sapnap's eyes found Wilburs' once again, "George and I only need help getting out of the city - after that you'll never see us again."

"For you, I hope that's the case." The threat in his words didn't need to be voiced further.

That seemed to be the end of the conversation for now. Wilbur's stance relaxed and he let himself sink into one of the chairs, his gaze finally breaking away from Sapnap. He still felt the others' gaze burn into him, but Sapnap ignored them and instead brought his attention toward where George and Dream had disappeared to. There were no noises coming from upstairs, somehow that unsettled Sapnap even more.

"Ehm...Sapnap, was it?" A female voice broke Sapnap out of his thoughts and the ex-templar turned to face who had approached him. The woman who had mostly stayed silent throughout all this was standing in front of him. Niki, if he remembered correctly, 

"Yeah?"

The woman smiled, she looked kind. However, despite the warm aura surrounding her, Sapnap felt it to be a mistake if he allowed himself to relax, "I wanted to apologize for Wilbur. You've got to understand where we're coming from. Templars don't really have a good reputation down here."

He shook his head, "No, I get it. They're not exactly the best people," Sapnap said with a frown - his voice filling with distaste. Niki raised an eyebrow at his wording but didn't question him any further.

The silence lulled between them for a moment, "The kid with the cape. Tubbo, right?" Sapnap asked. With his words, Niki's attention immediately snapped back to him, "Is he the one Wilbur's worried about? Is he...you know?" Her eyes narrowed, her gaze studying Sapnap's features for a long moment. The man shifted under her gaze, but before he could retract his question, she spoke up, "Yes."

Sapnap nodded slowly, "I see." He couldn't exactly blame Wilbur for his reaction now, no one deserved what awaited them in the circle. Niki studied him for a moment longer, before smiling one last time and moving away to join the others by the bar counter. They were sitting by a table close to it, talking in low voices that made it impossible to discern what they were talking about. Something felt off about each one of them. He shouldn't be surprised that Wilbur was spendinding his free time under criminals. But how did a barmaid and two teenagers manage to land themselves a crucial role within the inner circle of the underworld boss that was Dream- that was something Sapnap couldn't quite comprehend.

Either way, he didn't trust any of them, that was for sure.

He didn't bother with listing in on their conversation. Instead he brought his gaze once again toward the stairs. This time he followed his instinct to move upstairs. Just as he began to move, he heard Wilbur call after him, "If you're hoping to find anything, don't waste your time. There are no secrets for you here."

He couldn't fight off the annoyed frown that took over his features then.

The upstairs hallway did not look how Sapnap imagined it would. It had the layout of an inn but there were many personal touches that made it clear that this served as a home instead of a shelter for strangers. Plants that looked almost close to drying out stood by the stairs, books and hand drawn pictures were strewn all over the floor and cabinets that lined the walls.

His gaze traveled from door to door and eventually, Sapnap decided to simply knock at the door he was closest too, "You still alive in there, George?" He heard shuffling from behind the door and only a few moments later, George opened the door. He looked happy, relaxed, unharmed and Sapnap felt some of the tightness in his chest loosen, "I doubt half an hour already passed?"

Sapnap cast a glance behind George and caught the eyes of Dream. They were narrowed and focused directly onto Sapnap. A sudden wave of annoyance guided Sapnap's next words, "Well, while you were up here with your childhood sweetheart-" George spluttered and Sapnap had to bite back a grin, "I was stuck down there with the local crazy people."

"Excuse me?" Dream finally said, now moving to join their conversation.

"Your friends are weird, that's all I'm saying, Clay." Sapnap crossed his arms over his chest. The words fell from his lips before he had fully time to think about it, "Sorry but that's Dream to you."

"Oh, so George can call you Clay and I can't?"

"Yes." Sapnap didn't break his eyes away from the man in front of him. He wanted to know how much he could push him, if he showed his true intentions if pushed enough. "Right." George said, clearing his throat awkwardly, "How about we head back to the others? Share what he discussed?"

Sapnap took a moment to let George's words sink in. His eyes stayed on Dream for a moment longer, before he finally broke away with a frown, "Whatever." He stepped to the side, letting Dream and George pass before Sapnap followed them back downstairs.

When the three of them arrived downstairs, the group was no longer sitting by the table together. Instead, they had broken off into small groups. Niki and Tubbo seemed to be looking through a book together, while Tommy and Wilbur had settled down to play a card game of some kind.

"Clay," George began, pulling the blonds attention toward him, "You don't mind if I look around the building for a bit right?" Dream shook his head with a smile, "Not at all, knock yourself out." His voice was soft, Sapnap would almost say fond. Though things like that didn't mean much, people like him were excellent at lying, no matter the circumstances.

Sapnap moved to follow George, however, a hand on his shoulder stopped the male from doing so.

Dream's grip on his shoulder was tight but not painful, it felt more like a warning, a threat. Sapnap shrugged his hand off and turned to face the other fully, "What?" He hissed out, his eyes narrowed.

Dream pulled his hand back to his side, his eyes matching Sapnap's furrowed expression, "I want to know exactly you think you're doing to George."

"Excuse me?" Out of anything, that was the last thing Sapnap expected to hear. This wasn't the first time he had heard that question today, a question about his plans and intentions but this was the only time that George was the subject of worry, "You're asking me about my intentions with George? I should be the one asking you that. You're a criminal wanted by the entire city guard - people like you are greedy. As soon as the templars open up the bounties for us, you'll sell us out in a heartbeat."

Dream's eyes widened and anger replaced whatever heat was in eyes before, "You're a templar." He hissed out, taking a step closer toward Sapnap. He didn't step back. "You're one of the people who kept him trapped in that place for the last ten years. One of the people who must have made that prison hell. There's no way you have any good intentions here."

That crossed the line.

"How dare you." Sapnap began, pointing an accusing finger at the man in front of him, "He was the one who helped me realize how wrong I was. How fucked up that entire place is. He trusts me with his life, just like I trust him. I was there with him in those years and you weren't. You have no idea what you're talking about."

The fury in his eyes flicked, giving away a look Sapnap hadn’t seen on his face before. Dream broke away, his gaze moving down as he pressed his lips together and suddenly, Sapnap realized just what that glint in his eyes represented.

Guilt.

Sapnap felt some of the anger in his chest fade at the realization, however, when he looked at Dream again the glint in his eyes was gone. Instead, he was once again greeted by a furrowed brow and hardened eyes. The moment passed so quickly that Sapnap almost thought he had imagined it.

"I think I know enough to realize that you aren't doing this out of the goodness of your heart." Dream said after a short moment of hesitance, "People don't just do things because it's the right thing to do. There's always something they want. You haven't given up on being a templar - if you had, then you wouldn't keep their fucking weapons." Dream gestured down to the sword on Sapnap's hip, "Whatever you're getting out of this - I'm not trusting you with George or anything else until I know exactly what your plan is."

His words made Sapnaps’ rebuttal die on his tongue - a sudden tightness in his throat cutting off his words. He swallowed and glanced down, his gaze falling onto the weapon by his side.

The templar sword Sapnap had received when he finished his training. The blade he had gotten before he realized what their order truly represented.

He didn’t know why he had taken it along in the first place. He knew that by wearing it open, he was only making it easier for the other templars to find them and capture them again. But it didn’t feel right, leaving something so precious behind like it meant nothing.

Sapnap had worked years to gain what this sword represented. Had spent many late nights in his family's library, even longer nights down in their courtyard, trying to memorize the fighting forms his teacher had shown him the day before. Getting this blade meant respect, honor - that you were one of the chosen, powerful enough to go against the country's strongest foes.

Sapnap could still remember how proud his father had looked that day, during the ceremony, his smile warmer than anything Sapnap had ever seen from him. He expected great things from Sapnap, expected him to rise through the templar ranks just like he had done - decades before.

Sapnap thought he would do exactly as his father, but when he entered his first circle, when he saw the way mages cowered in fear, when he saw George’s scars...Sapnap knew he couldn’t do what he had promised he would.

He turned his back on everything the sword represented - but he couldn’t bring himself to throw the sword out too.

It felt like completely turning his back on his family, and that was something Sapnap wasn’t willing to do. Not so soon, anyway.

George's voice broke through the silence between them, "What the hell are you two doing?"

Dream pressed his lips together and glanced at George. His gaze was filled with confusion and worry, a worry Dream didn't want to see in his eyes, "Nothing." He said before Sapnap had the chance to speak. Sapnap didn't reply, instead he simply scoffed, turning his face away from the blond.

George frowned, clearly not believing a word Dream was saying - however, the blond only grinned and placed a hand on George's shoulder, "How about we finally share what's going on?" He said as he urged George to move closer to the others in the room. As if sensing that Dream was about to speak, the others in the room brought their attention to him, "Okay, so, as you already know George is the mage that the templars are searching for." Dream's voice lost some of it's softness from before and instead melted into a serious tone, "George and Sapnap obviously need help with getting out of the city," He clapped his hands together and took a seat in one of the chairs, gesturing for George and Sapnap to do the same, "What do we do?"

Dream's allies stayed silent for a moment until Tubbo was the one to speak up, "Well, I doubt a passport is going to work, right?" He asked, his voice slow and careful as his gaze studied Sapnap and George. When no one spoke up, he continued, "Even if we fake the names and such, the templars are bound to know what you look like, right? By now anyway - you can't look for someone without knowing their appearance after all. So just faking the passports and letting them go on their way is a bit too risky, right?"

Dream nodded, "No, that makes sense." He smiled at Tubbo. The teen looked much more relaxed than he had in the last hours, "Tommy." Dream suddenly said, bringing the blond's attention toward him. His face was pulled into a deep frown, "You've been pretty quiet - you alright?" Tommy's leg bounced up and down, his arms crossed over his chest, "I just don't see how you can just - let a literal templar and a person wanted by templars in here.”

Dream sighed, but Wilbur was the one to speak up first, "Tommy. The sooner we help them the quicker they'll leave."

"This is a bad idea. This is not going to end well." Tommy spoke with a glare and sunk deeper into his seat. There was defiance in his eyes, a distrust that was not only directed toward Sapnap but toward George as well. Tubbo placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, pulling the blond's attention away from the two men sitting behind Dream, "Tommy, it's fine. Nothing's happened yet. Let's just...give them the benefit of doubt?" Tommy pressed his lips together, his eyes contemplative before he let out a deep sigh, "Fine."

"Right well," Niki began after a small pause in conversation, "How about we just smuggle them? We've done that before."

"Wait, you've smuggled people before?" Sapnap said, his voice a bit alarmed.

Niki laughed, shaking her hand dismissively, "Oh no, just smuggling. We don't do it often but when we do it's been successful. That would be our best bet to get them out undetected, right?"

Wilbur hummed in agreement, running his hand through his hair as he stood up, "No, no, this is a good idea. I might have something in mind for that, though there's some things I'll need to check on before I can share more."

Dream let out a soft breath, "Alright, that's good." Dream could tell that Wilbur was anything but happy with him, but it was good to know that he was still willing to help. He turned to face George, "Wilbur will check on things and until then you're safe here." George slumped in his seat, a breath falling from his lips, "Upstairs, the last door on the right is a free room with two beds. You two can make yourself at home there." Dream smiled at the brunette, though when he glanced at the templar, his smile faded.

George stood as well, "Thank you, Clay. You have no idea how much of a help you are."

"It's no problem. Get some rest - the day is still early but you look exhausted."

The brunette laughed and Dream couldn't help the smile that widened on his lips, he had missed that laugh. George shared a look with Sapnap, before both of them headed up the stairs and disappeared behind the corner. Dream watched them go and it was only when they disappeared from his sight that Dream turned back around to the room.

Only to immediately come face to face with Wilbur.

Dream flinched back, "Jesus Wilbur." He let out a breath, pressing his hand against his chest, "Don't scare me like that." The man frowned, "I've never been able to sneak up on you before." His voice wasn't filled with judgment or worry, instead it was filled with interest.

Dream pressed his lips together, Wilbur wasn't wrong but Dream had never really been on guard at home before - not properly anyway.

"We need to talk before I leave Dream." Wilbur said, not giving the blond an opportunity to reply before speaking.

The blond let out a sigh, he had been waiting for this, "Fine, c'mon." Dream nodded toward the storage room. Dream wasn't oblivious to the fact that his friends weren't fans of what he was doing - not that he could blame them. Dream had never talked about George before, for the majority of his life George had been his well kept secret. Memories Dream would go back to on the days he felt the worst, when the reality of his profession and life would finally sink in. So far, his friends had believed that Dream had been alone before his alliance with Wilbur. The sudden appearance of a childhood friend he clearly trusted deeply was probably a lot to take in.

The fact that he was accompanied by a templar didn't make things better, though Dream was of the same mind there.

The door of the storage room fell shut behind them. Bottles, loafs of bread and other kinds of foods lined the walls on storage shelves and the only source of light being a narrow window high on the wall.

Silence stretched on between the both of them before Wilbur took a deep breath and spoke, "Look, I don't care what you do with George or whatever is going on. But you can't just bring the person here that is wanted by the circle. Tommy is right, this is not going to end well. If they find George, they're going to find Tubbo. Neither of us can do anything if they want to take him, Dream."

"George has been in the circle for ten years, I can't just not help hi-"

"I'm not saying you shouldn't help him. We should help him, absolutely. No one deserves to be in the circle but...don't drag this out longer than it has to. He should leave sooner rather than later."

Dream frowned, something twisted in his chest at Wilbur words, but he couldn't quite explain why, "What are you talking about?"

The brunette hesitated, his stance faltering lightly before he finally spoke, "I've never seen you like this before. So-so enamoured with someone." The only reply that Wilbur got was a confused frown and with a sigh, he added, "You go soft. I just...need you to remember that he's not here to stay. I'm not going to let you put Tubbo in danger Clay."

At the usage of his real name, Dream sucked in a sharp breath, "Of course I'm glad that George is back, but I'm not going to put Tubbo in danger with this. George..." Dream's voice wavered, "George is going to leave the city at some point, he'll go and be safe from the circle. But Tubbo will be safe too - if anything, George staying here is a good thing."

"Excuse me?"

"George is a mage - he's powerful. He can help Tubbo. I'm sure if I ask him he'd be happy to help."

Wilbur frowned and shook his head, "George was educated by templars - who knows how that works? It's a bad idea."

Dream sighed, running a hand through his hair, "I get why you’re unsure but...I remember what he was like before the circle. His magic was messy. One day he could throw me into the sky and the next he couldn’t even light a candle. He seems much more comfortable, more confident now - in his magic anyway. He knows what he’s doing." He shook his head, his gaze meeting Wilburs’, “This is a chance for Tubbo. For the years that we’ve known him he’s always been stumbling around with his powers. You’ve seen him - he’s growing more and more unsure each day. George can help - He will help, I’m sure of it.”

Both of them fell silent until Wilbur huffed. He moved past Dream and toward the storage door, "Fine. Just remember what I said. If anything happens to Tubbo because of this I will never forgive you." Those were the last words Dream heard before Wilbur left the room, leaving Dream behind the storage room alone.


	7. as long as you're happy, I don't care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Simple is good. It sneaks up on you, makes you smile. Maybe that should be enough once in a while." -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy! 
> 
> This chapter as been betaed by [TheLittleStar_tm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleStar_tm/pseuds/TheLittleStar_tm) !

The next morning, George woke up alone. The bed next to him was empty, the only sign that Sapnap had spent the night there, were rumbled sheets and pillows.

Sapnap was gone.

Panic spread in his chest and he sat up, alarm bells going off in his head at the realization. The templars must have found them, otherwise Sapnap would have surely woken him up. Or maybe they hadn't found them yet, but something else had gone wrong instead. He felt sick to his stomach at the thought of having been discovered already. George scrambled to push himself out of bed, almost tripping over the blankets.

The building around him laid silent, no thundering footsteps, no shouts, no swords being pulled out of their sheith - there was nothing. George sucked in a breath, but the anxiety in his chest didn't fade, instead the silence only made it worse. He buried his hands into his robes, gripping the expensive fabric tightly.

And suddenly, the door pushed open.

George flinched back, magic pooling into his fingertips almost immediately - ready to defend himself if he had to. However, an all too familiar voice washed the panic away in an instant, "George? You alright?"

Clay stood in the doorway, a worried frown present on his features. George let out a sigh, running a hand over his face, "Yeah, I am." Clay pressed his lips together, green eyes narrowing as he moved closer to the brunette, "Are you sure?"

"Just comes from sleeping in an unfamiliar place, I guess," George silently cursed how unsteady his voice sounded. He expected the blonde to push the topic, watching him as his eyes narrowed once again. Gaze softening, Clay moved to speak - but, alas, George swiftly interrupted him,"Wait, hold on - where's Sapnap?"

At the ex-templars mention, Clay's expression soured, however it only held for a moment before it snapped back to normal, "He's downstairs eating breakfast." That was the only explanation he gave before switching the topic, "That's not why I came up here though - I wanted to ask if you want to spend the day with me? There's something I want to show you."

"Show me?"

A grin formed onto Clay's lips, "Yeah! Plus, we need to get you something else to wear. You can't keep running around in circle robes after all." Before George could reply, Dream stepped back out of the room and reached behind the corner of the door. George didn't have time to question his actions, before Dream came back, clothes in hand, "You can wear my clothes before we buy you something else to wear. They might be a bit too big but..." He trailed off and cleared his throat, George didn't miss the way his cheeks reddened, though he couldn't imagine why Clay would suddenly start blushing, "I hope you won't mind too much."

Carefully, George took the folded clothes into his hands. The fabric felt soft, expensive beneath his fingers but unlike the expensive robes George was used to, this one didn't fill him with the urge to tear it apart. He shook his head, "Of course not, thank you." He smiled and with a nod, Clay debarted from the room with hurried steps. He hadn't been wrong about the clothes. The clothes hung a bit from his frame but it wasn't anything that rolling up the sleeves couldn't fix.

Two hours and a breakfast later, Clay and George threw themselves into the busy streets of the lower districts. The day already seemed to be in full swing, and unlike yesterday, the civilians seemed much more relaxed. Instead of hurrying back into their homes after doing their daily shopping, people now sat on benches or stood at the sides to talk. It was oddly relaxing for George, despite the looming threat of templars spotting him. His cloak still covered him perfectly, just like it had the days before, but now that the summer heat was growing, George regretted taking the piece of clothing along.

"Where exactly are you taking me anyway?" George asked as he followed Dream through the twists and turns of the city streets.

The blond looked behind him and George didn't like the mirth in his eyes at all, "You'll see."

"That's not exactly reassuring."

The only reply George got was Clay's laughter. The longer the two of them walked through the streets, the more familiar everything grew to be. George had almost forgotten what it was like - to feel at home. The brick buildings were small, but decorated nicely by the families living inside. Everything was buzzing with life, conversation floating all around them as Clay led him around. It was bright, warm and George could feel some of the tension in his shoulders melt away.

His memories of the lower districts were fuzzy at best. He hadn't been here in years and most of the memories from his childhood revolved around his parents and Clay anyway - so remembering what these places used to be like ten years ago was hard. Despite the fact that things had surely morphed and changed, George got the deep sense of home in his heart. The scent of the ocean hung in the air and finally he realized that Clay was leading them closer to the docks, "Clay, can you finally tell me where you're taking..." 

They turned a corner and George's words died in his throat.

He remembered this turning all too well, the small crossroad that broke off toward the harbor and the street George had lived on when he was a child. He stopped mid-step, standing frozen as he stared down the two paths, "What are we doing here?" Clay stopped moving as well, and finally turned to face George fully. His grin fell into something softer, a sombre look crossing his features, "Just trust me?" Clay asked, his voice careful as he held out a hand - a hand George took with no hesitation. Clay clasped his hand tightly and with a comforting squeeze, tugged George around the corner to face the street. 

His childhood street had always been a dead end, a small circle street that housed the homes of families and elders. The houses here were small, but perfect for a growing family. It still looked exactly the same, the houses were a little run down, but the tree that always stood in the middle of the dead end still towered over the homes - just like it always had. But George paid little attention to all of this, because his gaze immediately snapped to the biggest house on the street, one that sat nestled between an alleyway and a low brick wall - his childhood house.

The only place George had ever known true peace in.

George felt something in his chest tighten at the sight of it. It looked just how he remembered. The brick walls were still overgrown with vines, the window in the kitchen still had that giant crack running through it and short stairs leading up to the front door sat crocked on the dirt. George swallowed the lump in his throat, “Clay, what…” He sucked in a shaking breath and broke his gaze away from the building, “What are we doing here?” 

Clay let go of his hand and stepped forward, advancing toward the front door as he replied, “I’ve been taking care of this house. Your parents gave it to me before they moved away and I wanted to give it back to you.” Clay pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door - it still creaked when Clay pushed it open. He didn’t step inside, instead he brought his attention back to George. George couldn’t help but stare into the open doorway - the last time he had been here, he had been dragged away by rough and armored hands. 

The templars hadn’t cared how much he begged, how much he screamed for them to let him go.

They never did. 

“...George?” Clay’s confused voice broke the mage out of his thoughts, “I’m sorry, this wasn’t a good idea, was it?” Clay moved to close the door, his expression falling.

“Wait, no, no.” George stepped forward, stopping Clay mid-motion, “It’s just..a lot to take in, you know? I haven’t been here in a long time.” George didn’t know why he stopped Clay, why he brushed past his friend and moved inside the house without another word. 

He didn’t want to be here. 

He didn’t want to leave either.

The front door led directly into the living room and the open kitchen. The rooms were empty, all of the furniture that George knew from his childhood was gone, leaving behind the empty walls and dark shadows. Only the kitchen still held the counters and oven, as well as the old dining table.

The muddy footsteps were gone, the overturned furniture was gone, the broken down door was long fixed. It was all replaced by spiderwebs and dust.

The stairs looked stable and led into the upper floor of the house, where the bedrooms and bathroom had been. He wondered just how much his parents had taken with them, when they left. 

George thought he had come to terms with the fact that he’d never see them again, but seeing his childhood home like this - forgotten and abandoned - it made everything much more real. 

They were gone. They left him.

He felt his eyes well up, and George tried to take a steadying breath. However, it only seemed to make things worse. The man pressed a hand against his eyes, “Fuck,” He chocked out. Clay placed his hand onto Georges’ shoulder, calming some of the emotions in the mages chest, “I’m sorry George, I should have asked if you wanted to come here.” 

George choked back his tears, “No, I’m glad to finally be back.” He said after a short pause, “The last time I was here was ten years ago. When they…” George trailed off, his throat tightening.

“...when they took you.” Clay finished for him, his voice falling quiet. 

Both of them were silent for a long time, simply standing side by side in the corpse of George’s home. Clay was the first to speak, “What was it like in there?” Hesitancy was clear in his voice, but George didn’t miss the curiosity, the interest.

He wanted to tell Clay everything. He wanted to vomit out the words and get those memories away from his mind, away from his chest. Every bruise, every cut, every shove and punch had buried itself deep within him - even Sapnap didn’t know everything. He had seen more than he’d heard. 

At the thought of telling Clay this though - at laying himself bare like that - something inside of him recoiled. The thought made him feel sick. When he looked into those green eyes - eyes that normally filled him with warmth - George could feel his stomach turn.

He believed Clay could be trusted, but something in his heart blocked him from following his mind.

When he spoke, George didn’t recognize his own voice, “I-I don’t know. A lot…a lot happened. It wasn’t good.” His reply was curt and he broke his gaze away from Clay.

He missed the way Clay’s eyes filled with sorrow.

“Do you remember the way your father always tried to get me to help out down by the docks?” Clay suddenly asked, breaking away from the topic of the circle entirely.

“What?”

“Well, he’d always tell me that down by the docks there’s honest work, you know? Tried to set me on the straight path.” Clay laughed, a sound tinged with sadness.

Relief bloomed in George’s chest as Clay moved away from the topic and he gladly jumped onto the new conversation. He smiled lightly and began making his way toward the kitchen, “That didn’t work out, did it? You have a wanted poster.” George added with amusement.

The kitchen was dusted over, it was obvious that this place hadn’t been used in a long, long time. George could still remember the way his mother’s cooking had smelled, usually nothing fancy - they couldn’t afford more than vegetables, fruits and the occasional baked sweets. However, once a week, his mother made the most amazing roast. It took her the entire day to make and the whole house would be filled with the smell of her cooking. She always did say she was going to teach him when he was older.

George ran a hand over the dinner table. It was steady under his hand, but his fingers came back covered in dust. George had to bite back a smile, the table was still covered with small drawings and carvings he had done as a child. It seemed his parents didn’t have the heart to clean it off. George let himself fall onto one of the chairs, it immediately groaned under his weight and he almost feared that the object was going to collapse. However, thankfully the chair didn’t break.

Clay followed George into the kitchen and pushed himself up onto the table, looking down at the brunette as he spoke, “True, true.” He laughed, “It was just easier, you know? Why do honest work when I can just...take.” He shrugged, his grin faltering lightly. The blond was silent for a long time, his brow furrowed and gaze hesitant - he avoided George's gaze when he spoke up next, “I…did a lot of things I’m not proud of George.” He finally said, the confession falling silent from his lips. 

He flexed his hands, pressing them tightly against his hoodie, “At first it was just to survive, you know? Take what I need so that I don’t starve - that’s what I told myself anyway. It morphed into something else though, especially when I brought my...business over to the higher districts. I took what I wanted because well, I thought I deserved it more.” 

“Why though?” George interrupted softly, “You...I never thought you’d, well, you know - turn to a life of crime.” 

Clay winced, “I just didn’t care enough - “ He wrung his hands together, “I was all alone. You were gone, your parents left and the children I lived with didn’t exactly like me either. I wanted something better - power, and I thought that making a name for myself in the criminal world was the quickest way to gain that. I mean, I was a child, I didn’t know any better. By the time I did, well...I was already in too deep.” 

George didn’t know what brought this on, why Clay was letting everything pour from his lips but George figured it was for the same reason why George had choked up. Why he had been unable to explain just what the templars had done to him in the circle.

Clay was ready, while George was not. 

“What made you realize it? That you were wrong?”

Clay froze, his hands stilling. Georges’ stomach sank as he realized that he had asked the wrong thing - he opened his mouth to change the topic, or take the question back, however, before he could do so, Clay spoke again, “I was 16 - “ He began, his voice heavy, “I had been working with Wilbur for about a year now. He’d been giving me protection and inside knowledge, I...grew confident. Too confident. During a routine robbery the house owner came back earlier than I thought. He saw me, attacked me and...well…” His voice broke off and Dream’s gaze moved over to George. He kept silent for a moment, simply studying George, as he looked for something in the others eyes. Finally, he seemed to find what he was looking for, “I killed him.” 

George froze.

“He bled out before I even left the room.” Clay spoke faster now, his gaze falling away from the mage, “I didn’t even take the things I wanted to steal, I got nothing out of this. No money, no jewels, literally nothing. That man died for nothing, George. I killed him for nothing.”

“But…” George began, his words tight, “It-It was self-defense Clay, that’s different. It’s not like you killed anyone else.” 

The silence after George’s words was deafening.

Oh.

George looked up, taking in the form that was Clay. He didn’t look confident now - he avoided George’s gaze, his shoulders were tight and pulled up. He looked vulnerable and George wanted nothing more than to move forward and take his hand but something stopped him. 

Clay had killed with those hands - those same hands that had pulled him into an embrace, had given him shelter and warmth - they didn’t feel like the hands of a murderer when they held George tightly. 

But Clay had killed people. 

George couldn’t just let that slide, couldn’t just ignore that.

That didn’t change what Clay had done for him though.

...

George didn’t reach out.

“I-I don’t know why I told you that.” Clay said, his gaze planted firmly onto the floorboards below them, “I didn’t want you to look at me differently. But…” Clay finally brought his gaze back to George. He smiled, George didn’t like the sadness he saw there, “You already do.”

“No, Clay, that’s not…” George swallowed, “You’re...you’re different - from what I remember.” 

Clay looked at him with a strange look in his eyes, “That shouldn’t be a surprise George.” 

The brunette pressed his lips together and he felt something in his chest sink, “I suppose it shouldn’t be.” The boy from George’s memory suddenly felt much further away. This wasn’t the boy George remembered. Dream felt like a strange, twisted version of that boy he used to know. Despite the changes that Clay went through without him, despite the trust that the mage was unwilling to give, this didn’t change anything. 

Right?

“I’m sure you’ve only done what you had to.” 

Clay’s shoulders sagged with relief and the smile that bloomed on his face made George’s chest feel light. Both laid silent for a moment, simply letting their conversation sink in, before Clay stood up, “We should probably get going. We’ve still got some errands to run and such.” 

George moved his gaze around the house, his eyes stilling as they settled onto the stairs that lead deeper into the house, “I want to check out my old room before we leave.” George said without thinking. 

“Are you sure?” Worry filled Clay’s voice, eyes shining with uncertainty. 

“Yeah...do you mind waiting downstairs?” 

Clay shook his head, “Of course not.” 

George stood, the chair once again squeaking as his weight was lifted off of it. He didn’t hesitate when he moved through the empty kitchen and living room, ascending the stairs silently.

The upstairs was even dustier than the downstairs. The windows were blocked off with wooden planks, blocking out most of the sunlight that had brightened up the rooms downstairs. He looked down from behind the railing, his eyes finding Dream almost immediately. He was still seated on the kitchen table, his back turned toward George. The brunette didn’t linger any longer, and finally moved further down the hallway. 

The last door of the hallway was firmly shut. The last time George had seen that door it had been broken into splinters. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

His room looked like it was frozen in time, a time before the templars took him. His bed was neatly made, his toys were strewn all over the floor and his wardrobe was wide open, clothes and bedsheets spilling out of it. It was just how he would always leave his room in the morning. 

However, there was one thing he didn’t recognize. 

On top of his neatly made bed sheets laid a small box, covered in dust, “Who could have left this here?” George mumbled amidst the silence. He doubted his parents would leave anything this obvious behind. Though George knew that he had never owned such a box in the first place - it was blue and looked far more expensive than anything his parents could ever afford. George took a step back, almost considering that asking Clay about it was the smarter choice, however, something in his chest kept him from doing so.

He pushed the box open. 

The lid fell onto the ground with a soft thud and on the inside George could spot two things, a folded piece of paper and a silver ring sitting on top of it. He recognized the ring almost instantly. It was his mothers’. It was a simple silver ring, there were no engravings, nothing special, but George could still recall how she would always look at her wedding ring with love. He swallowed the lump in his throat and picked up the ring. The metal was cold in his hand and it was only then that he noticed the string tied around it. 

George didn’t hesitate when he pulled the string over his head and let the ring rest against his chest. He smiled to himself, and unfolded the paper.

_ “I write this letter in the hopes that you will read this one day, George. Your father and I have finished packing and by this time tomorrow, we’ll be far away from this city. It aches me to leave you here my son, but we don’t have a choice. The longer we stay here, the worse the pain in my chest burns, and I fear it will destroy me if we do not change. We should have left the city as soon as your talent revealed itself. We thought we could protect you, we were wrong.  _

_ I leave my ring with you, in the hope that it brings you some sense of comfort. You can keep it close, give it to the one that holds your heart or even sell it for what little it is worth. As long as the ring is of some use to you. _

_ I love you and I’m sorry. I hope you’ll be able to forgive us someday. _

_ ~Forever and always, Mom.” _

George felt speechless. The paper crinkled under his grip and he didn’t allow himself more time to debate on the words from his mother. He folded the paper back together and stuffed it into his pocket, before he turned his back on the room, leaving it devoid of life once more. It felt suffocating - but not necessarily in a bad way. 

“Was anything up there?” Clay called up when George began moving down the stairs. The blond was already waiting by the front door, light pooling in from outside and throwing a shadow over Clay’s face. George reached up, his hand grasping the ring on his chest tightly, “Just something my mom left behind…” He trailed off, his gaze falling onto the house around them.

Clay kept the key when they left.

The further away they got, the lighter George started to feel - like a looming shadow was slowly but surely falling away. George wouldn’t say he felt better, but finding the letter from his mother had loosened something deep inside his chest.

What exactly that was, George wasn’t sure. 

“There’s this really nice tailor close to the higher districts. I already told them that we’re coming so they should have some stuff prepared already.” Clay explained as they moved back onto the mainstreet, “Blue is still your favorite colour, right?” 

“You remembered.” George spoke with light wonder in his voice. 

Clay chuckled, “Of course I did.” George couldn’t help but smile - the fact that Clay still remembered something as simple as his favorite colour, even after so long, did something funny to the mage’s insides. 

The two fell into a comfortable silence as they moved through the streets, following the flow of the crowd. George couldn’t help but notice how even Clay moved, he cut through the crowd easily - even the meanest looking men moved out of the way to let him through.

It didn’t even seem like a conscious choice for most of them. It was as if Clay just shone so much status, that it was clear he wasn’t just another one of the dock workers. Even Clay didn’t seem aware of it. He simply walked, greeting the people he recognized with a kind smile.

The shop that Clay ended up leading them to was much more expensive than George had first expected. He didn’t even have enough time to properly take in the inside of the shop before George was already ushered into a brightly lit backroom. 

He didn’t know how much time he spent there, but by the end of it, George had three bags in his hands - all filled to the brim with different articles of clothing. Clay didn’t even give George the opportunity to reach for what little money he had and instead, stepped up to the cash register without hesitation. The man behind it grinned, “Ah, Dream, we do love doing business with you. That would be 12 gold.” 

George hesitated with stepping in...he had no idea if that was a lot of money.

The brunette had to assume that it wasn’t, because Clay simply smiled in return, dug out 12 golden coins and placed them neatly onto the table, “It’s my pleasure - thank you for your good work.” 

Clay moved to George’s side, taking two bags from his hands and promptly leaving the store. The mage sent an awkward smile toward the store employees before following Clay outside. There, the blond stood waiting, illuminated by the afternoon sun. 

George had never quite realized how pretty Clay grew to be. He turned to face George with a smile and the mage felt something in his stomach drop.

“Right,” Clay said, breaking George out of whatever trance he had found himself in, “Should we head back?” 

George cleared his throat, “Oh, yeah.” He cast a glance inside the bag he was holding, “For someone who lives in the lower district, this sure is a lot of expensive fabric. Do you go to that shop often?”

“Hm? Oh, no. The last time I was there for myself was like, a few years ago. Wilbur always gets Tommy’s and Tubbo’s clothes from there - so they know how to make business with us.” Clay replied as the two of them began making their way back to the bar. 

“How did that even happen?” 

“What do you mean?” 

George waved a hand in the air, “Well, your friends. They’re an…” His mind flashed back to cold eyes and furrowed brows, “interesting bunch.”

Clay threw his head back, a loud laugh falling from his lips almost as soon as George finished speaking, “Well...Wilbur and I - we both needed each other, whether he wanted to or not. He approached me about helping me gain more power in the criminal world and he wanted to use me to get...a bigger customer base.

Niki joined a bit after I opened the bar. Honestly, I thought owning a bar was going to be...easier? I guess? After a month I was almost going bankrupt and then Wilbur stepped in, demanding that I get someone who actually knows what they’re doing.” Clay laughed sheepishly, “Niki was one of two people who answered the job posting. It was pretty obvious that she was good at her job and she convinced me. After we detimented that she was trustworthy, I introduced her to Wilbur and into our ‘real’ business.” 

George hummed softly in acknowledgement, “What about Tommy and Tubbo though?” 

Clay’s smile softened lightly, gaining a tinge of sadness, “Ah, Wilbur found them. I...don’t know what happened and I’m not going to ask them but, one night Wilbur just appeared with those two scared looking boys and well...I couldn’t turn them away.” 

George hummed in understanding. He hadn’t spoken with them yet, really the only people he had properly talked to in these past few days were Sapnap and Clay but those two had intrigued him. They were clearly friends, far away from any of their family - he did have to wonder just how they ended up in this city.

“Speaking of Tommy and Tubbo,” Clay began again, his voice careful, “There’s something going on that you should know.” George kept quiet, silently waiting for the other to continue, “Tubbo is like you and he’s not coping too well with it, if you get what I mean?” 

Understanding immediately formed in his gut. The vague words were all George needed to understand - he supposed talking about magic out in the open wasn’t a good idea no matter what, “I can definitely help. Getting that to work on your own is difficult.” George smiled, “For as long as I’m in the city, I’ll help as much as I can.” 

Clay returned his smile, “Thank you. We tried to help but, we’re often at a loss, you know? He got some books recently - maybe that can help?” 

“Those books are often useless when you don’t have someone to teach you.” George spoke, mostly to himself, “I’ll manage though - I was always one of the best in our classes.” 

The conversation lulled to a stop after that and soon enough, the bar finally came into view. The front door to it stood open and even from a few meters away, George could hear muffled talking and laughing coming from the inside. It seemed like the bar was open for business. The strangers inside didn’t pay them any attention when Clay and him walked inside, however, something that George did immediately was to scan the crowd for Sapnap’s familiar face.

However, the black haired man was nowhere to be found. 

George tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut.

The two of them moved toward the counter, where Niki was mixing a drink, a tired look on her face, “Where’s Sapnap?” George asked immediately, letting the bag in his hand drop behind the counter, an action Clay copied.

“He went to send a letter to his father - that’s what he told me anyway.” At her words, the lump in his throat faded away. However, next to him, Clay gave a disbelieving scoff, “Yeah, right.” 

George frowned, “What?” 

“I’m just saying it’s hard to believe that he’s going to calmly send a letter to his father while the templars are searching the entire city for you.” 

“You say as if we weren’t just going on a shopping spree.” George gave a deadpan reply. 

Clay sucked in a small breath, “I just think it’s suspicious, is all.” George only rolled his eyes at Clay’s words. 

He trusted both of them deeply, Sapnap and Clay had both been an important person in Georges’ life. But he never would have expected them to clash as often as they did. It wasn’t like either of them were going to tell him what was going on either - they were much more open to pretending that George didn’t realize just how much they didn’t get along. 

He wasn’t going to step in either, he doubted that no matter how many times he said the other was trustworthy, it wouldn’t change a thing.

George leaned back against the bar counter, a small sigh escaping him as he looked over the patrons inside. Everyone seemed to have a good time, men and women were sitting together at tables, chatting and laughing together. However, George noted with some surprise, each one of them wore the clothes of someone removed from the wealthy side of town - even though the food and drink sitting in front of them looked high quality, “How much do you guys ask for food here?” George asked, glancing back at Niki. 

The woman set down the drink in her hand, her gaze moving over the people inside, “Well it depends, usually a couple cooper coins or silver - most of our financing comes from Dream’s private business anyway.” George hummed in understanding, he supposed that was a good price. He didn’t really know actually, as a child he didn’t have to deal with money and in the circle everything had been handed to him on a rusted silver platter.

George pushed himself away from the counter, his gaze moving to the stairs, “Do you know if Tubbo is upstairs?” He asked, glancing at Niki, “I wanted to talk with him about something.” 

She hesitated, “What did you want to talk about?” 

“Dream asked me to help him out with-” He waved his hand in the air aimlessly, “-you know…” 

Niki’s eyes widened with realization, “Oh, in that case - yes, he should be upstairs. The last time I saw him was there, anyway.” 

“Great, thanks.” George gave Niki a quick smile before moving to face Clay, however as he did so, he quickly realized that the tall blond was missing from his side. George let his gaze wander over the crowd again and he quickly spotted Clay, standing in the corner with a grim looking woman. George didn’t recognize her, but judging by how closed off Clay held himself with her, the brunette assumed that it had something to do with his work.

George decided against telling Clay what he was doing, and instead made his way upstairs wordlessly. Just as he turned the corner onto the hallway upstairs, he came face to face with Tubbo. The teen froze mid-step, a book clutched in his hands, “Tubbo, I was actually just looking for you.” 

The teen relaxed, “You were?”

“Clay told me about your situation. I...wanted to offer my help - I remember what it was like to try and get a grip on them on your own.” George sent Tubbo a weak smile and while the teen seemed to relax completely now, George didn’t miss the uncertainty in his eyes.

George couldn’t blame him - he knew exactly what this felt like.

“The circle isn’t great,” He continued, “but they do know their stuff when it comes to magic. Out of anything that I’ll take with me from there, it’s the things they’ve taught me about magic.” With George’s words, the caution in Tubbo’s eyes slowly gave away to curiosity, “We could give it a try.” The younger finally said after a brief pause, “I have a couple books in my room. They could be a good start, right?” 

The two began to make their way toward the door leading to the teen’s room and as soon as the door opened, George quickly realized just how much of an understatement ‘a couple books’ were. Every shelf was filled to the brim with books, there were even some strewn on the floor or the desk that stood on the side. Surprisingly, only a small amount of them seemed to be books talking about magic - the ones that weren’t, contained various scientific contents, “You must really enjoy science Tubbo.” George commented, allowing himself to look over multiple book titles. 

Behind him, he heard Tubbo shift, “It’s just really fascinating - magic is too of course, but all the new things that scientists and engineers invent is just so much more fascinating. It’s much easier to understand too - with science there’s rules, things you can learn and get to the bottom of, but with magic? It seems endless. I like picking a problem apart and solving it, I’m good at that, but with magic you just solve one problem and immediately hit another roadblock.” 

George hummed in understanding. He could relate all too well with what Tubbo was talking about. Once you mastered one thing, no matter how small, that just seemed to open up more possibilities - George had progressed so far that he encountered roadblocks like this rarely or only when he actively sought them out. Without a teacher or someone experienced though, it was hard to focus just where your magic had to flow, in order for it to be of use. 

George turned to face Tubbo, clapping his hands together he spoke, “Let’s start with the basics. Magic is endless, we have many possibilities but most of the things we can do can be sorted into one of the four magic schools recognized by the circle. Primal, this school uses the forces of nature - wind, fire, ice and lightning.Some people call it the magic of war, thanks to it’s powerful offensive spells.” The words felt forgein in George’s mouth. They weren’t his own, but instead words that he’s heard over and over again, however, when he saw the interested glint in Tubbo’s eyes, the mage continued, 

“School of Creation- takes what already exists and manipulates it into bringing new things into existence. There’s more focus on healing and defense here, however much like any school, this one can be just as dangerous. Mastering this school takes a lot of finesse and it’s rare for someone to completely master it.”

“Entropy is one of the more dangerous ones. It uses forces of decay and destruction to make way for new things. It takes energy from enemies or other beings and turns them into a force to be used by you.”

“Spirit is the one closest related to the source of magic, though also the least studied one. It’s a bit controversial, since you gain the ability to summon spirits and such if trained enough. Barriers and force fields also come easily to people who follow this path. There are also a bunch of subclasses, but I think for the beginning it’s better to find a school that fits you and focus on it.” 

Tubbo hummed gently, “I see. Is there a test or something? Or do I just choose what I like the sound of most?” 

“Well...you could just choose that sounds the best but most mages have a natural talent in one of the fields. For me it’s primal magic for example - nature’s elements come easy to me, while for others even summoning a small flame is difficult. What was the first thing that made you realize you had magic?” 

Tubbo was silent for a while, his lips pressed together, “The first spell I did...I think it was when my sister broke her leg. I was nine and she was six, we were climbing on this big tree in our backyard-” A smile bloomed on his face at the memory, “And she normally never liked climbing things like that, but that day I managed to convince her to try. She fell and broke her leg,” His smile faltered again as he continued, “I don’t even know what happened, I just rushed forward, there was a glow and the next thing I know her leg was fine again.” 

George felt his heart sink a bit. Creation was one of his favorite classes back in the circle, but it had also been the school George was the worst at. No matter how hard he tried, healing or strengthening the abilities of his allies was never something that came naturally, in magic anyway. Helping Tubbo might be harder than he thought, George could still help him with the basics. 

“The most important thing about magic is direction, that’s the thing you’re always lacking in the beginning.” George flattened his palm, letting a small fire burst to life there, “No matter what spell, in what school, you always need to visualize it first - the clearer you can see the outcome of your spell, the easier it will be to cast.” 

Tubbo nodded, and compared to only a couple moments before, George realized with delight, Tubbo seemed to be much more relaxed, as he started to voice his problems; “The thing that I always have trouble with is not visualizing a spell, but more so controlling the power once it’s released. It’s almost as if there’s this bubbling fire in my veins, wanting to get out and when it does, it’s like it’s refusing to go back inside.” 

George paused - he hadn’t heard that one before. The only other mages he had ever met were all part of the circle, everyone was caught at a young age and then brought to be raised in the controlled environment. Tubbo was probably the oldest, untrained mage George had met. He couldn’t relate to full extent with the power that was running through him, since George learned how to control his magic early one. It was the first thing they taught, and also the thing they were stricted on.

George didn’t know what happened if you never learned to set restrictions for your magic - it wasn’t something he wanted to know either. 

“You have to set restrictions for yourself.” George began, pulling Tubbo’s attention toward him again, “It’s like invisible walls that you have to set for yourself - in the end you know yourself best and know where the limits of your powers are. You don’t need to put your entire strength into one spell - in fact it’s best to use as little as possible unless you really need to. Powerful spells aren’t only a danger to others but to yourself as well.” 

“How do I know how to set those restrictions though? It’s not like I haven’t tried that before, but no matter how hard I try it’s like it keeps on pushing against what I decide.” Tubbo replied, frustration seeping into his tone.

“You can’t force it Tubbo.” George replied, “It’s difficult and it takes time, but with practice you’ll learn your own limits easily enough.” George paused, taking a glance around, “Do you have a pen and paper? Maybe an illustration will help.” Tubbo gestured toward his desk and when George had gathered some supplies the two of them settled onto the floor.

There, the two of them fell into the routine of learning.


	8. and then it's just too much, the streets, they still run with blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Take moments of happiness where you can find them, the world will take the rest."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey...Hey... okay honestly, this took way too long. I meant to update much earlier but mental illness and the holidays kinda got in the way of that. Anyway! I really hope you guys had a good new years and that so far, 2021 has been treating you guys well!
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!
> 
> This chapter as been betaed by [TheLittleStar_tm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleStar_tm/pseuds/TheLittleStar_tm) !

George didn’t know just how long Tubbo and him sat there, looking through outdated magic books and noting down hidden lessons. But by the time George pulled his attention away from the books, the sun was already setting over the houses in the distance. Tubbo was a fast learner, he understood things quickly and it wasn’t long before George deemed himself satisfied with what they had gotten done in their first lesson.

“How often do you think we can do this?” Tubbo asked as he reached toward the pile of notes George had written. He pushed them into a neat pile as George spoke, “I don’t know how long I’m staying in the city. Who knows how long the preparations for me leaving are going to take?”

Tubbo only hummed in acknowledgment. He folded the thin paper pile in half and pushed it into his pocket before glancing up, “Thank you though - even if we can’t do this often I’m sure these notes are going to help in the long run.” The teen smiled, a smile George steadily returned. 

Never before had George been able to speak so openly about magic. Even in the circle, where magic was the thing they were supposed to teach, talking openly about it was never something George had done. He kept his distance from the people his age, threw himself into his studies as he tried to get through his daily life as unnoticed as possible. Sharing his excitement about a spell, felt like something he wasn’t allowed to do. It felt good though, to see the same excitement mirror back in Tubbo’s eyes as they shared their experiences.

Both of them stood - George’s legs aching lightly as he moved - evidence of just how long the two had been sitting here. Tubbo seemed a bit bothered as well, stretching his arms above his head with a small grimace on his face. Quickly, the grimace faded and Tubbo’s expression melted into a soft smile. The teen reached forward, his hand almost coming in contact with his shoulder, however, just as the teen’s hand brushed against his shoulder - Tubbo flinched back, his hand snapping away as if the touch had burned. His eyes were wide, unfocused - as if he was seeing something beyond George, beyond this room.

Concern immediately flooded George’s chest and he took a step forward, frowning, “Tubbo, what-” 

The teen took a shuddering breath, “George, you’re-” He interrupted himself, his gaze focusing back onto the man in front of him, “George, I think there’s something watching you. There’s - I don’t know how I didn’t notice it earlier but there’s this energy around you that’s just...just dark.”

“Tubbo, what the hell are you talking about?”

Before either mage could continue the conversation, the door to Tubbo’s room was pushed wide open. Immediately the attention of both snapped to the door, their voices falling silent as they were met with the sight of Niki. Her lips were pressed tightly together, her eyes were narrowed but there was clear worry and panic inside them. Her hands clutched the door tightly, knuckles turning white, “You need to hide. Three templars just walked into the bar - they know you’re here George.” 

Cold fear washed the previous conversation from his mind, “What? How?” 

“I don’t know. Just stay here. Please. We’ll handle it.” 

Without waiting for an answer, Niki left, closing the door behind her. 

There were no noises coming from downstairs, but George could imagine exactly what was going on. The templars would storm the bar, forcing everyone outside. They’d tear down the doors until they found what they wanted. They would find George eventually, and they would find Tubbo with him. 

George’s gaze moved behind him, his eyes settling on the teen. His gaze was filled with a fear George recognized all too easily. George was the reason they were here, the reason why the teen’s hands were shaking. 

George clenched his jaw and wrenched his gaze away from him. He had known from the very beginning that his chances of getting out of the city were slim, but if the templars were going to find him now, he wasn’t going to drag Tubbo down with him. The brunette took a step toward the door, but Tubbo’s voice made him falter, “George? Where are you going?” His voice was unsteady, shaking as he spoke. George forced back the guilt in his chest, when he stepped closer to the door.

“I need to see what’s going on. Stay here, it’ll be fine,” George forced a smile that he hoped was convincing and stepped out onto the hallway.

He pretended not to hear Tubbo’s shaky exhale when the door fell shut. 

He moved further down the hallway and toward the stairs, pressing himself against the wall just before they turned the corner down to the bar. From this position he could hear voices, there were only two of which he recognized.

“- not about to let you walz all over my private property,” Clay, George could recognize his voice anywhere by now. He spoke in a way George had never heard from him before. It was cold, distant - like the person he was talking to was worth less than dirt. His voice made a shiver run down his spine - it reminded him too much of the tone the templars had always used.

“You have no right to force yourselves in here like this. I don’t see a warrant either, we don’t have to show you anything.” This time it was Niki that spoke, her voice was more stable now. No trace of the panic he had heard just moments before, upstairs. 

There was a moment of silence and George took a deep breath, leaning to the side in the hopes of catching sight of just what was going on. The room held much more civilians than it did earlier this afternoon, but instead of the light atmosphere from before, the room was filled with silence. The people’s faces were narrowed, grim - it seemed despite their shared fear of magic, the civilians disliked templars more. To George’s surprise, Tommy stood at the side, his gaze furious and focused entirely on the three templars. His arms were crossed and he was shifting from side to side, unable to stand still. Sometimes his gaze would flicker toward the stairs, before promptly focusing back onto the templars. He blended into the crowd well, if George didn’t know any better, he might have assumed Tommy was simply a bystander, like the other patrons.

In the middle of the room stood Clay with Niki by his side. Clay looked relaxed, his shoulders slack and hands stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie. He seemed unbothered by the inspection, but the mage suspected that this was nothing more than a well practiced act. George didn’t look at the templars and instead leaned back against the wall, falling away from the line of sight of the bar once again.

But the templars were there - whether George was going to look them in the eyes or not.

The conversation between Clay and the templars faded in the background as George let his head drop against the wood behind him, a sudden wave of exhaustion washing over him. His gaze moved up to the ceiling, a dark wood covered in cobwebs - nothing like the ceiling of his bedroom back in the circle. Everything was made out of stone there, all clean and spotless as if it had been built just yesterday.

How did they even find him? How did they know he was hiding here? 

If they had seen him on the streets, they wouldn’t have hesitated to capture him immediately. They wouldn’t have waited - their pride doesn’t allow it. They wouldn’t wait for much longer here too.

In only a few moments they’d push Dream to the side, ascend the stairs and see George standing here. Would he even fight back? Would it amount to anything? They’ve already found him, now it was only a matter of time.

_ No matter how hard you tried, how well you think you hid yourself, they’d always have a way to find you, in the end.  _

It seemed that was something George never quite let himself realize.

George’s dark gaze moved to the door at the end of the hallway, Tubbo’s room. Tubbo didn’t deserve what awaited him in the circle, didn’t deserve to know the bruising grip of armored hands, the sting of a templar’s sword slicing across your skin-

The sound of a glass shattering broke George out of his thoughts, the crash causing him to flinch violently. People down in the bar murmured and he could hear Clay speak, his voice low, threatening in a way that made George freeze, “If you don’t want this to end up in the mayor's office, you’d better leave. I doubt she’d be happy to hear about one of the most well paying establishments being harassed by templars.” A pause, “We can always end this differently too, if you want.” 

A voice he didn’t recognize hissed, “Was that a threat?” 

“No.” Dream said, his voice sure, “An offer.” 

The voice that spoke next was deep, it sounded pleasant, like it was dipped in honey. George didn’t recognize it but something told him that he should. That he had heard this voice before, echoing down from distant hallways, “Gentlemen, please. I think we can solve this without any further violence. I’ll talk to the Knight-Commander, we’ll discuss things and then I’m sure we can look at your...establishment closer.”

Clay scoffed but no more words were exchanged as heavy footsteps began to move away. By the sound of a door falling shut, George suspected that they were gone. His thoughts seemed to stand correct, when just shortly after Tommy rushed past him, not even sparing him a glance as he bolted down the hallway and into Tubbo’s room.

Before George could decide what to do next, Clay’s form followed Tommy’s footsteps, moving up the stairs and into George’s field of view. His face was pulled into a grimace and there was a small, bleeding cut on his cheek. His gaze was on the floor, watching each step that he took carefully, as he rubbed a hand against the cut.

“What happened?” Was the first question that fell from George’s lips as he stepped toward his friend. Clay’s gaze snapped up immediately at the sound of George’s voice. He smiled, his face softing. He wiped his thumb over the barely bleeding cut, “For some reason the templars had a suspicion you were here. They’re dealt with though.” His voice was soft, kind, but George could hear out a certain tension that seemed unlike his friend to hold.

“Are you sure they’re gone?”

Clay hummed, “Yes, they shouldn’t bother us for at least a couple days .” As soon as Clay finished speaking however, the softness in his gaze fell away to seriousness, “Do you know where Sapnap is?” 

Those words gave George pause, “No.” He said slowly, his eyes narrowing, “Why?”

Clay didn’t say anything, but something in the man’s eyes made his stomach sink, “Not important.” Clay said after a brief pause, “Are you okay?” 

George dismissed his question quickly, “What do you need from Sapnap?” In all honesty, George didn’t even need to ask. He could imagine where Clay’s mind was heading.

For a moment, the blond simply stood there, contemplating his next words,“I just think it’s suspicious.” He finally said with a sigh, “He’s been gone the whole day - ‘sending a letter to his father’ he says, but as soon as he’s gone the templars suddenly find out exactly where you’ve been hiding.” Clay’s voice was a mix of frustration and worry, George knew that this worry was not only direct at him.

If Clay had been talking about anyone else, George might have agreed, might have listened. Sapnap however, was the exception, “You can’t be serious.” George spoke, suddenly feeling rather breathless, “Sapnap would never. He’s the reason I escaped the circle to begin with.” 

“How can you be so sure? On the one day he leaves the bar to go into the city alone, the templars suddenly find you. What else am I supposed to think?”

“You’re supposed to trust me, Clay! Sapnap would never let me fall back into the circle if he had any say in it. I have no idea how they found me, but it was not through him.” 

Clay fell silent after that, but the hardness in his eyes didn’t soften like they usually did. With a sigh, the blond brushed past George - once again heading downstairs. George let out a huff as he followed, “You don’t believe me.” He said, voice tinged with annoyance.

“Of course I don’t. I get that he’s helped you but this is too big of a coincidence to be anything else.”

“Why won’t you just trust me?”

Clay stopped moving, turning back to face the brunette behind him, “I do.” And this time, his eyes softened to the gaze that George was familiar with, “But...the templars only left without any major problems because of my connections. Without them they wouldn’t have left willingly.This was too close. I won’t let them take you again George - I failed you once, I won’t fail you again.” 

“You were a child back then, there wasn’t anything you could have done.” 

Clay sighed, his gaze breaking away from George, “I didn’t try hard enough. I gave up far too early. Maybe if I hadn’t given up, you could have escaped sooner. That’s why I’m going to protect you now.”

George swallowed - Clay’s words warmed something in his chest, but George didn’t need to be protected. Not from Sapnap, “Don’t take it too far Clay. I know he’s not at fault here.” The brunette paused, his gaze breaking away, “Don’t make me choose.”

Clay didn’t respond.

As Clay and him finally arrived back on the ground floor, George noted that most customers seemed to have left after the confrontation with the templars - though there were still a few people sitting in the corners, sharing quiet conversation between themselves. No one spared them a glance when George and Clay moved toward the bar counter.

George slid onto one of the seats and let his gaze drift down to the wooden counter. Clay’s previous silence laid heavily on his mind. There was no doubt in George’s mind that Sapnap had nothing to do with this - weather Clay believed him or not.

_ Don’t make me choose. _

George had no idea what he truly meant with those words, nor did he know what Clay’s silence was the answer to. Clay meant a lot to George, their shared memories helped the brunette through his darkest days. But that was what most of their shared time was - memories. When George was having a rough patch, Sapnap was the one by his side - nursing his wounds, speaking kind words. 

The blond made him feel safe and welcomed in a way George had never experienced before, but he couldn’t choose him over Sapnap - not after everything they’ve been through. Not after everything Sapnap had done to help him.

The sound of a glass being placed in front of him broke George out of his thoughts and he glanced up. Niki stood in front of him, a gentle smile on her lips as she pulled her hand away from a glass of water she had placed in front of him, “How are you doing?” 

George took a glance to the side - Dream was leaning against the counter, his face turned toward the door with an unreadable expression. George felt something in his chest tighten and he brought his attention back to Niki, “I’m fine.” He said with a curt nod. Her eyes narrowed, a disbelief shining in them that Niki didn’t even try to hide.

George’s nerves felt rubbed raw, like even a little more pushing and prodding could make him bleed. Thankfully, Niki didn’t prod, she didn’t push. She simply smiled and moved away.

The door to the bar opened and immediately George’s attention was pulled toward it. Sapnap moved into the bar, pushing the door closed with his elbow. He was gnawing on his bottom lip - a nervous habit that the younger had been doing for as long as George had known him. His pants were covered in dirt and his hair was messy, as if he had been running his hands through it for hours. Something had happened. 

George watched with bated breath as Clay stepped forward, capturing Sapnap’s attention immediately. “We need to talk.” Clay spoke, nodding toward the private upstairs of the bar. The blond held Sapnap’s gaze for a moment, before breaking away and moving upstairs.

Sapnap left out a huff, his face scrunching up in confusion. He hesitated, his eyes flickering to meet George. They didn’t speak, but one nod was enough for both of them to follow after Clay.

As soon as they were out of earshot from the people down in the bar, Clay paused, turning back to face Sapnap with cold eyes, “The templars were here. Looking for George.” 

“What?” Was the immediate reply Sapnap gave, his previous anxiousness giving away to shock and worry. His dark eyes moved to glance at George, before immediately snapping back to Clay, “How did they find him?”

Clay’s eyes narrowed and he took a step forward, voice filled with a dangerous edge, “Don’t play dumb with me. You were the only one who had the chance to go and tell them-”

“What the fuck are you talking about? If you really think that I ratted George out to the templars, then you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought!” Sapnap hissed back, his hands curling up into fists. 

As George watched the two argue, his heartbeat seemed to rise with every spoken word. George knew it was irrational, he knew that their anger was pointed toward each other and not onto him. But he couldn’t ignore the tightness in his throat, the shakiness of his hands as the anger in their words seemed to sink deeper and deeper - afraid that with one wrong move, their anger would snap onto him instead.

Clay growled, and George shrunk back as the blond took a step toward the ex-templar, “How the hell did they find him then? If it wasn’t you?” 

“I. Don’t. Know.” Sapnap replied, his voice low, “I didn’t betray my family, everything that I ever knew just to stab him in the back a couple days later. I don’t-” Suddenly, Sapnap interrupted himself, falling silent as realization melted away the anger in his eyes.

It wasn’t long until realization gave away to horror, “Oh my god, George.” Sapnap said, turning his attention away from Clay and to the mage behind him, “George, we forgot about the Phylactery.” 

George could feel his stomach drop.

“What? What the hell is that?” Clay asked from behind them, however, both, the templar and mage, ignored him.

“Oh god.” George breathed out, “Oh no, how did we forget that? That was the most important thing to get rid of. How could that have slipped our minds?” 

“Can the two of you tell me what the hell is going on? What’s a Phylactery?” 

Those words finally caused the two of them to bring their attention toward Clay. Gone was the anger in his green eyes, now George could only spot frustrated confusion. Sapnap was the first to speak, “It’s a glass vial filled with the blood of a magic being. Whenever a mage is brought into a circle, their blood is taken and a Phylactery is created.” Sapnap paused, his face scrunching up in confusion as he tried to find his next words, “It can be used to find a mage should they escape the circle. It works kind of like a compass - the Phylactery glows and the closer you get to the person you’re searching for, the stronger it glows.”

Silence stretched on as Sapnap finished speaking. Clay simply stood there, looking at the two of them with a dumbfounded expression. After a moment, the blond slumped against the wooden wall next to him, pressing a hand against his forehead as he spoke, “Let me get this straight,” He fixed his gaze onto Sapnap and despite his much more relaxed statue, his voice still held bearly hidden anger, “This object can track George down no matter how far away he’s from the city. And you forgot about it?” 

George winced lightly, in retrospect it did sound idiotic - however, thinking back to that moment, George couldn’t fault his pastself. Their escape hadn’t gone according to plan - in fact, if they had followed their original plan, Sapnap and George would have waited up until the midsummer festival to conduct their escape. In the end it had been rushed, but they had gotten out - that was what mattered.

“I know what it sounds like,” George finally said, “But our escape was messy, we had to rush it. I was panicking, I think we both were…” He sighed and ran a hand over his face. It was stupid, it was such a stupid thing that George almost deserved to be discovered just because of that.

At George’s words, Clay seemed to deflate. Some of the anger melted away - he pushed away from the wall, “How do we get rid of it?”

Sapnap shrugged, “Well, in the end it’s still only a glass vile. It can easily be shattered, but getting access to it is the difficult part. They’re usually kept in the circle, but since they’re searching for George one of the templars has to have it with them. I don’t know how we would get them to hand it over though.” 

Something in Clay’s eyes darkened then and he kept quiet for a long moment. His eyes narrowed and his lips twitched just lightly, something that George came to recognize as something Clay did whenever he was thinking. A plan was slowly forming in the blond’s mind, and judging by his grim expression, George knew he wasn’t going to like it.

“I think I have it handled.” Was all the blond said before he brushed past the two and once again began heading down the stairs. Sapnap only scoffed, but George couldn’t help but follow Clay with worried eyes until the blond disappeared behind the corner. 

George got the urge to follow, the emotions in his chest pushing him to run after the blond and stop him from whatever he was about to do. But then again, Clay was so unpredictable. Clay had been kind to him so far, but the brunette had no idea of knowing just how Clay would react if George were to step in his way. He had no idea what he’d do. Despite this though, George took a step to follow him. It was Sapnap who stopped him. 

“George,” He said, his voice filled with something the mage couldn’t decipher, “Let’s leave him to it.” 

The mage turned to face him, lips pressed tightly together, “Are you sure?” It didn’t sit right with him, leaving Clay to just go through with this unspoken plan. He wasn’t blind, he saw the tightness in his jaw, the way his fingers had twitched whenever his hand slipped close to the dagger on his hip.

Clay was going to get the Phylactery, no matter the price and that fact alone made George’s stomach turn. 

When did this happen to him? When did he become so open to violence when as children he couldn’t even throw a convincing punch. Maybe he had gotten sick of it, running to George with dark bruises and watery eyes.

By now he should be used to the fact that Clay had changed just like he himself had. But it was hard, when every smile made George feel safe, when Clay was so kind and gentle toward him - just like he used to be.

Maybe this was a mistake, maybe staying here was a mistake.

George sucked in a breath.

“I still don’t like or trust him.” Sapnap began, oblivious to the thoughts running through George’s mind, “But he was worried about you. Deeply. That’s enough for me right now.” He frowned, “Not going to change that he’s an idiot though - seriously thinking that I’d sell you out.” 

“What were you doing anyway? You were gone the entire day.” 

Sapnap chuckled awkwardly, “Well, trying to get through the upper district undetected is harder than I thought it would be.” Sapnap was lying, that much was obvious to George. He had known Sapnap long enough to read him by now - he wasn’t that good of a liar to begin with.

At George’s disbelieving stare, Sapnap sighed, “I...had a bit of a breakdown after sending the letter to my father. He’s...he’s not going to like this.” He admitted, voice quiet.

Worry curled around George’s heart at the words and he moved forward, placing a hand onto his friend's shoulder, “It’ll be fine Sapnap. It’s not going to be easy but...you’re his only child, he’ll have to come around eventually.” 

Sapnap went slack under his friend's touch, the tightness in his shoulders that George hadn’t even noticed fell away. Sapnap was taller than him, always had been, but here like this, with his eyes unsure and face fallen, he had never looked smaller.

It only occurred to him now, but George had been so caught up in everything that he hadn’t even checked in with Sapnap properly, “I’m sorry,” The brunette said softly, “I never really considered what you were giving up for me.” 

“There’s nothing to apologize for George. I knew full well what I was getting myself into, trust me, I thought about this long and hard. And anyway, your safety is much more important right now.” 

George smiled, some of the heaviness falling away as he pulled the younger into a tight hug, “Thank you. I really don’t know what I would have done without you in there.” 

Sapnap patted his back, and George could feel him laughing weakly, “You’d be helpless without me.” George pulled away, a small grin tugging on his lips as he rolled his eyes, “You’re the brawn and I’m the brain, let’s leave it at that.” 

Sapnap laughed and as the two of them fell into a quiet conversation, George tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut whenever his mind drifted back to Clay.


	9. i'm nothing but a problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I was a coward. If I could go back, I would stay, tell you how I felt."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! This time I actually have a good reason for taking so long - I've been working on two new things, another multichapter that I'll post at some point and a very, very long one shot. Anyway, hope you enjoy!
> 
> This chapter as been betaed by [TheLittleStar_tm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleStar_tm/pseuds/TheLittleStar_tm) !

As Dream rounded the corner of the stairs, he tried to ignore the soft conversation coming from behind him - but no matter how hard he tried, George’s voice always floated back to him. He spoke to Sapnap in soft and caring murmures, a tone that Dream yearned to have directed toward him as well. 

Dream knew that George cared for him, he saw it in the way the brunette smiled, the way he relaxed just slightly whenever Dream reassured him. It didn’t feel like enough though, not when George seemed to feel so much safer with Sapnap around.

Sapnap was part of the very same organization that had torn George away from his parents, away from Dream - yet he seemed more at ease with him around. No matter how much Dream thought about it, he could never wrap his head around it.

Dream wasn’t blind. He knew that George’s care for Sapnap was much more personal, a bond forged between two people who had been stuck in a horrible situation for years. While George's care for Dream was...different, based on vague memories and old promises.

George and him were strangers, no matter how hard they tried to pretend otherwise.

There was a bitter feeling in his chest, something that guided the anger onto the wrong person. Deep down Dream knew that Sapnap most likely was not at fault here. He had seen the protective stance the templar had taken in the alley a few days ago, seen the hesitancy when asked to leave George alone with him. Sapnap cared just as much as Dream did, no matter how wrong that felt to admit.

Dream glanced back, unseen by the two men upstairs, and he watched as George pulled Sapnap into a comforting hug. The bitter feeling sunk deeper and sudden realization fell over him like a bucket of cold water.

He wanted to have what Sapnap had. He wanted George’s trust, his comfort and laughter.

Jealousy, envy.

How ridiculous.

His mind was filled to the brim with thoughts, none of which he was able to pin down properly. However, they all circled back to one thing - George. George when he hesitated, fear evident on his features but he pushed on regardless. George when anger bleed into his expression, an anger that seemed endless no matter how hard George tried to reel it back in. George when tears rolled down his cheeks, painting the skin red when Dream wanted to do nothing more than to wipe them away - George’s smile, George’s touch, George’s laugh.

No matter how hard he tried, his mind always moved right back to him. Dream felt drunk, his mind fuzzy and unable to focus on anything else whenever the brunette was around. Even now, with George only a few steps away, the mage was all he could focus on.

It was selfish to expect George to care as deeply for Dream as he did for Sapnap. 

Dream found that he didn’t care.

Finally, Dream began to move, rushing down the last few steps of the stairs and away from George.

He hurried outside, the summer air greeting him as he pushed the bar door open. The sun had long set, sinking the lower district into the depth of night. Only the main street was bathed in the warm light of the streetlamps, the rest of the alleys and streets seemed endless. An abyss you could easily get lost in.

The street was silent, devoid of life. Most people knew better than to go out after dark in a district such as this after all. 

Despite the calmness of the night, Dream felt unsteady, still reeling from everything that had happened prior to the evening. Today had been too close, the templars had been right there. Anger bubbled under his skin, an anger he let flow freely now that he was away from his allies. 

He had no idea where the templars could have gone, but one glance to the left gave him all the answer he needed. Behind the forest inside the city walls, the circle tower loomed over the town, standing high above even the richest people in the city. If Dream had to guess, that was definitely where the templars were heading.

He clenched his hands, steeled his nerves and moved down into the closest alleyway.

The alleyways were dark, only dimly lit by the houses that Dream had to pass while moving through the small alleyways. He knew the city like the back of his hand, for as long as he could remember he had used these alleyways to escape the guards or make a safe getaway after a successful theft. This time however, he was using them with a much darker intent.

The streets were silent, the voices from the templars carried easily, “Why the fuck would you agree to leave Eret? I swear to the maker - the mage had to have been in there!” Dream recognized that voice, it was the templar that had done the majority of the arguing back at the bar - the one who had seemed a bit too trigger happy in his eyes.

Dream slowed his walk, sinking low as he came to the mouth of the alleyway to glance down the street. The templars were walking slowly, the burning street lamps made their armor shine brightly, the third templar, a woman, sighed, “Will you stop throwing such a fit about it? I swear, you are so annoying.” 

“I have good reason to be annoyed - we can’t just let a mage like that roam free. Who knows what he's doing right now?”

A deep sigh interrupted the squabble from the two templars, “Can you please calm down? Were you really going to fight someone influential in the middle of the public eye? The city already hates us enough as it is. There’s no need to throw more fuel into the fire.” 

The man scoffed, “Yeah right, and I’m sure it has nothing to do with your little sympathy toward mages. You’re too soft on them.”

Eret stayed silent.

Dream studied the templars as they moved - despite the anger and frustration bubbling under his skin, Dream noted instantly just how unguarded they were - like they were untouchable of any danger.

Dream sucked in a shallow breath, forcing his nerves to calm and for his mind to focus. If he wanted to get the blood vial, he needed to be smart about this. He pushed his hoodie up, pulling the dagger hidden there out of its sheath. The leather handle weighed heavily in his hand. It was a weight Dream was used to by now, this wouldn’t be the first blood he spilled. 

With his free hand he slotted his mask onto his face. The templars would surely know who he was, but a passerby wouldn’t. With one last breath, Dream rushed forward. 

The templar barely had any time to react when he already had Dream’s knife pressed against his throat. The man who had before this been so loud-mouthed, choked, his hands scrambling to hold onto Dream’s arm, as he tried to pry the arm that was pinning him down away.

Dream pressed down further, the sharp metal meeting the soft flesh of the man’s neck, “I’d suggest you stop moving. We wouldn’t want an accident to happen, now would we?” The man in his grip froze and Dream brought his attention to the other templars, the woman and the man with the deep voice. 

The woman’s gaze was furious, her teeth bared as she stared Dream down. The other man’s gaze was hidden behind dark glasses, but he looked much more relaxed. Dream frowned, that was never a good sign, “You…! We left your fucking bar, what more do you want?” The woman hissed.

“I want the bloodvile you used to locate escaped mages. I know you have it with you.” Dream spoke, his voice low. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” The woman spoke again, now finally reading the weapon that had been hanging from her hip up until now.

“What do you even want with it?” This time, the other man spoke, his eyes narrowed, calculating as he stared at Dream. The blond shifted lightly, he felt exposed, as if he could stare right through the mask.

Before Dream could reply however, the man still struggling in his grip spoke up, his voice stained but still filled with a cocky undertone that Dream despised, “As if you even need to ask! I’m sure he just wants a nice little toy to sell at the black market. I’m sure some noble would be happy to pa-” Dream didn’t give him the chance to finish. With practiced hands, the knife sunk deep, easily cutting through the neck of the templar. Warm blood spilled over his hands and a sickening gurgling noise filled the street as he dropped down onto the dirt street, motionless.

Dream ignored the blood dripping down his hands and with cold eyes, he brought his attention back to the templars standing in front of him. The woman screamed, a shout filled with fury as she charged forward. Dream pulled up his dagger, ready to defend himself and fight the two of them when suddenly, the man behind her gripped her arms - keeping her from moving forward, “Eret!” She growled, tugging harshly on the grip he hand on her, “What the fuck are you doing! Let me go!” 

Eret’s gaze was focused entirely on the dead body crumbled on the ground, expression unreadable, “No. If you kill him we’re just going to have more problems on our hands.”

“I don’t give a shit.” The woman hissed, tearing her arm away from Eret’s grip. This time the man didn’t try to hold her back as she charged forward. She thrusted her arm forward, the templar sword gripped tightly in her hands. Dream jumped to the side, just narrowly avoiding the sword. 

The armor weighed her down, and even with her small height Dream was faster than her. Dream stepped behind her and as she tried to turn, Dream used the blunt end of his dagger to slam it into the side of her head. She let out a breath and crumbled to the ground, her breathing shallow. 

That was much easier than he expected…

“She’s a new recruit.” The man behind him spoke, reminding Dream of his presence once again. The blond turned to face the remaining templar, he simply smiled weakly, “I’m not going to fight you. Jessica - that’s her name, the vile should be on a necklace around her neck.” 

Dream didn’t move, “Why are you helping me?”

Eret sighed deeply, his gaze dropping from Dream and onto the crumbled bodies on the ground, “This is not how I know circles to be...they both have done horrible things in the name of containing the mages.” When Dream didn’t reply, he added, “I’ll report this of course, but trust me. This will be kept under wraps - the Knight-Commander wouldn’t want anyone to know two templars were so easily defeated. I’ll be going now. Good luck.” And without another word, Eret turned and disappeared into the darkness of the street.

Dream waited until Eret was completely out of sight, before leaning down and snapping the necklace off of the woman’s neck. 

The vile was warm in his hand, pulsing with a magic Dream was normally not aware of. It glowed softly, powered by George’s blood, this object would show anyone where he was hiding. The templars used this, tracking down people who more than earned their freedom. 

He clenched the vile tightly and just as he was about to let the glass slip from his grasp and onto the street, he hesitated - the losing grip tightening once again.

The templars almost found George.

He had almost lost him, again.

Sucking in a breath, Dream pushed the vile into his pocket before he could give himself time to reconsider. It was out of the hands of the templars, that’s what mattered and Dream would only use the vile in emergencies.

Surely George would understand.

Dream sniffed as he looked at the scene before him, the paleing body, the blood that was slowly running down the street. In only a few hours the guards would find him, but judging by how Eret reacted, Dream assumed that he'd be safe from whatever was coming. 

It was suspicious, but right now, he had more important things to focus on. With no glance back, Dream made his way back into the alleyways to get back home.

When he arrived back at the bar, the downstairs was pitchblack, safe for the light candle flickering behind the coloured windows. The upstairs windows though still shone brightly with light, it seemed that his friends and allies were still awake upstairs. Suddenly more aware of the state he was in, Dream rubbed his bloody hands against his trousers - but the blood stayed. It had dried. 

He sighed and pushed forward, opening the door with a slight creak. Unlike what Dream had expected, the room wasn’t empty. There were no patrons and Niki had most likely gone home already, but Wilbur sat at one of the tables, his expression grim. His shoulders were pulled up, his eyes narrowed and lips pressed tightly together - immediately, his brown eyes snapped to Dream’s bloody hands. 

Neither of them spoke up, as Dream moved past him, heading to the bar and to the tap behind the counter. He turned on the tap and pushed his hands under the running water. It was cold, and he rubbed his hands together, trying to get the blood to peel off his skin. After a few seconds of trying, the crusted blood loosened from his hands. Dream watched as the water turned red and flooded down the drain. He turned off the tap and silence once again took over the room. 

It felt suffocating.

Suddenly, exhaustion washed over him and Dream reached forward, planting his hands firmly onto the corner of the sink. He let himself lean against it with a sigh. Finally deciding he had enough of the silence, Dream spoke up, “Why are you here Wilbur?” 

“Why am I here?” Dream flinched lightly at the tone of Wilbur’s voice, it was calm, but Dream knew him well enough by now to recognize the hidden fury underneath his words. He had heard that tone of voice before, but never before had it been directed at Dream, “You come in here, covered in blood, and ask me what I’m doing here?”

“Wilbur-” 

“You see, here’s what happened.” Wilbur said, his voice high and sarcastic, “I’m walking Tommy home, you see? We are just about to arrive at the bar, when suddenly we see templars walz into the bar. Tommy being Tommy, runs right in because he’s scared he’s about to see his best friend being dragged away.” 

“Things were under control, Wilbur.”

He heard Wilbur push the chair he was sitting on back, a sharp shriek ringing through the room, “That’s not what this is about Dream!” Wilbur moved closer, he gripped Dream’s shoulder tightly and pulled the blond to look at him, “Tubbo was right upstairs, only a few meters away from those templars. They never had any suspicions before, but as soon as George stays here Tubbo is almost found not even a week later.” 

Dream frowned and tore Wilbur’s hand away from his shoulder, “It was handled,” He hissed, “They were never in any real danger and Tubbo’s fine-”

The noble let out a huff of frustration, his face curling into a snarl, “Tubbo is not fine, Dream. When I finally managed to head inside after you and the templars left, I went into Tubbo’s room only to see him shaking in Tommy’s arms. The boy was terrified! And judging by you coming home covered in blood, you only made the entire situation worse than it already was!”

Any rebuttal Dream could have given, died on his tongue. 

“Ever since you found George you’ve been acting insane. I’m not going to protect George if him being here puts Tubbo in danger, I told you this.”

Dream slumped down, a deep breath escaping his body as the reality of the situation finally sunk in. He never stopped to consider what it would feel like for George and Tubbo to have such a close call with templars. Where Dream had simply been angry, those two would have been terrified. The templars jumped onto anyone they assumed to be a mage, if Tubbo had been found out he would never have seen the light of day again. 

Dream finally moved to meet Wilbur’s gaze, “I killed one of the templars to get George’s blood vile. They-They used it to locate him.”

Wilbur sighed, the tension in his shoulder finally melting away. Instead, his anger was replaced with deep rooted exhaustion, “Fuck.” Wilbur moved back, leaning against the counter behind him, “Goddamnit Clay.” 

Dream could see that Wilbur wanted to get angry again. He couldn’t even blame him, not exactly, Dream knew he had acted on impulse but he didn’t regret it. George was safe now, and the templars had no reason to suspect Tubbo. He was sure it’s fine. 

“I’ll deal with that later,” Wilbur began again, “But this will end soon anyway. I have new passports for George and Sapnap, plus the route we’ll use to get them out of the city is almost ready. I reckon in only a couple days, things will be ready to go.” Wilbur pushed himself away from the counter and Dream watched as Wilbur moved back into the bar, Dream followed him slowly, “Until then I need you to figure your shit out.”

“What are you talking about?” 

Wilbur glanced back, their gazes meeting once again, “What do you want out of this? George isn’t going to stay. Remember that.” Without another word, Wilbur left the bar. Dream watched wordlessly as Wilbur’s silhouette passed the coloured windows and down the street.

As soon as Wilbur left the bar, Dream took in a shuddering breath. Wilbur’s words bounced around in his mind, but Dream couldn’t make sense of what he could have meant. He knew that George was going to leave, but that didn’t mean they’d never see each other again...right?

Finally, he moved away from the sink and bar counter. He moved toward the small light that had been illuminating the room, carefully he extinguished the candle before heading up the stairs. The hallway was completely dark, no light fell from the slits under the doors to the bedrooms - it seemed during his conversation with Wilbur, the others had all gone to sleep.

Hesitantly he stepped up to Tubbo’s room. Wilbur’s words rang through his head again, reminding him just how affected the teen had been - something Dream hadn’t realized properly before. Carefully, he pushed the door open and peaked inside. Tommy and Tubbo were both passed out on the floor, laying sprawled out on the carpet in the middle of the room. The curtains were open, allowing the moonlight to spill inside. Dream chuckled fondly and carefully snuck inside. He moved to pull the curtain shut, before pulling the blankets from the bed down. He let the blanket settle over the two teens. 

Dream let out a sigh, a small spark of guilt sinking in his gut as he looked at the pair. 

He knew that Tommy always worried about Tubbo, the threat of him being torn away from their makeshift family always loomed over them. Dream knew what it was like to have your best friend disappear without a trace, he didn’t want the same thing to happen to Tommy and Tubbo.

With one last glance at the boys, Dream left the room once again.

He didn’t linger in the halway much longer and headed back into his room. His bed looked welcoming, the soft blanket and mattress beckoned him to simply sink down and sleep but he moved passed it and headed right toward his window. He pushed it open, and hopped outside, landing safely on the small ledge just below it. Dream turned, taking hold of the rim of the roof to pull himself up. 

He reached the roof safely and settled down, his gaze falling onto the stars above. 

Dream would often do this, flee onto the roof of the bar simply to cool down and gaze into the stars. As much as he loved the hustle and bustle found in the cities, he did have to admit that he loved the silence of the rooftops more. It was a good place to flee to, whenever things became too much. 

The comforting silence was broken by the sound of a muffled voice calling out to him, “Clay? Are you in here?” It was George, he’d recognize his voice anywhere. 

The blond moved a bit closer to the edge of the roof, “I’m on the roof!” He called into his room through the still open window. It wasn’t long until soon after that George appeared in his view, poking out from the window, “What are you doing up there?”

Dream shrugged, “I don’t know, I just like to spend time here sometimes.” 

George hummed in understanding, before pulling his leg up, resting his foot on the windowsill, “Help me up,” He demanded, holding his hands up for Dream to take. The blond laughed fondly and reached down, taking hold of George’s hands to pull him up. It took a little bit of effort, but after a short while, both men sat secure on the rooftops. 

Silence lulled between them for a moment, “So...anything I can do for you?” Dream asked, his gaze focused on George. The brunette gaze kept switching from the stars and back to the city below, Dream had to bite back a grin as he noted the nervousness in his friends eyes, “What? You scared of heights?” He added, gently bumping his shoulder into George’s.

The mage huffed, finally bringing his eyes back to meet Dream, “Oh shut up.” He rolled his eyes fondly before continuing, “I don’t really have a reason to be here to be honest. I just...wanted to know where you ended up going after our conversation.” 

The grin that had been on Dream’s lips up until now, faltered. His mind snapped back to the scent of copper and the vile laying heavy in his pocket. He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, George only spoke up again, “And please...don’t say nothing. I know you did something Clay. I need you to be honest with me.”

Dream felt his throat dry up as he heard desperation in George’s voice. His dismissing replies immediately left his mind, but the thought of telling the truth felt even worse to Dream. He had told George the truth about his tasks only a while ago, but something stopped him now, “I...I think you already know what I did George. The blood vile won’t be a problem anymore, that’s for sure.” 

Next to him, George breathed in sharply. Dream didn’t look at him, too afraid of what he might see in the brunette’s eyes when he looked. That was something Dream was becoming more and more afraid of - that one day he would realize the true extent of what Dream did. That one day George would look at him as if he was a stranger, as if he had changed beyond recognition. The silence between them that settled was awkward, filled with the tension of words both were too afraid to speak.

Dream knew he had changed, knew that George had changed - and no matter how often he came to that realization, it always left him with a bitter feeling on his tongue.

“I’ve fucked this up, haven’t I?” Dream finally said, his gaze planet firmly on the stars.

George was silent for a long time, but when he spoke his voice was filled with a hesitancy that made Dream’s heartache, “You didn’t fuck up anything.”

Dream dismissed his words, “Did we change too much George?” Finally, Dream looked back at George, only to see that the brunette’s gaze had been on him the entire time, “I don’t want this to be a crossroads George. Are we just bound to walk different paths?”

George pressed his lips together, a small sigh escaping him, “I don’t know. I hope not. You meant a lot to me Clay...you still do but, it’s difficult coming to terms with, well…” He gestured vaguely into Dream’s direction, “Everything.” 

Dream felt his heart sink, but even despite that, he huffed out a laugh, “Sure, I get that.” 

George’s hand settled on his shoulder, and Dream felt himself relax under the touch, “Trusting you is hard Clay, I’m going to be honest. But I’m trying, I don’t want us to part ways forever when Sapnap and I leave the city. Promise me you’ll try as well?” 

Dream smiled, his hand moving to rest on top of George’s, “Of course. I promise.”

He really hoped both of them could hold true to that promise. 

They sat in silence for what felt like forever, but eventually, George moved to stand up, "I'll head to bed now, got an early start" He spoke, his voice holding slight awkwardness.

"You do? What do you have planned?" 

George smiled, "I'm heading to the market with Tubbo and Tommy tomorrow. He could need a distraction and Tommy didn't want to leave him alone, so they're both coming" 

Dream hummed gently in understanding. He wasn't sure if it was a good idea to leave the house so early after the situation with the Templars, but as Dream was about to say so, he caught the glint in George's eyes. He was excited, the glint reminded so much of how George used to look at him. 

He sighed, "That sounds like a good idea. Be careful though" 

"Of course I'll be careful," George rolled his eyes, "Good night."

"Night." 

Dream watched as George slowly climbed back to the windowsill and slipped into the bedroom. It wasn't long until the sound of a door opening and closing filled the silence. Dream was alone once again. He laid down onto the roof completely now, his gaze focusing onto the night sky above.


End file.
